Post by TFP on Aug 28, 2007 21:09:09 GMT -4
The heat of the summer causes me to be more languid than I regularly am. The sofa nowadays has an everlasting cast of my ass on it from the hours that I am motionless on the cushions. Picking the scabs on top of the veins on my arms, I flick them athwart the living room and look intently at them as they wait on the hard-wood floor, decomposing and being eaten up by minuscule scavengers such as ants, flies and maybe the odd mouse.
Until my blood resurfaces and hits the air to construct a scab, I’ve got naught more to do during the day. Only air-conditioning supplied by the apartment keeps me relaxed, it’s the only thing that keeps me ordinary. Sometimes the days are too protracted and I’m besieged with the nothingness that surrounds me, so my eyes flicker and my lids gloom. Then before long once all of that is complete, I drown off to sleep.
It’s kind of outlandish how I ended up like this in the past year. When I arrived in FWA last year, I was a content guy who had a lot of aspirations. My career was going to kick off and I was going to be an immense deity, one that I have always dreamed of being. No drugs, no alcohol and no anxiety; I had the whole lot going for me. But I eventually turned around when it was roughly February, I fucked my life over. Now I’m messed up, I don’t think the same anymore. It’s blatant that I’m on something, everybody knows, they can see it in my eyes. But what can I do? Treatment is a choice, but I think it’s overrated. I can get through this by myself.
Although it’s pessimistic to my social life, it’s helped a modest bit within my wrestling profession. The soreness is almost imaginary; it feels as if it isn’t even there any longer. On every juncture I think about taking an ultimate risk, it happens. My thoughts revolve into reality; I’m stoned out of my fuckin’ mind. When the needles and the heroin mix, the side-effects can be dangerous if I think a certain way. Astoundingly my opponents are still walking and the similar to myself. There’s a lot in life that I ought not to have and to walk is one of them. I did so much morally wrong things in the past while that I’m receiving all of these gifts that some are begging and praying for.
But I can alter, I can change my life. From this day onward, it’s no more fuckin’ heroin. I can battle that demon; I can transform my life and turn it around. People have that abnormal confidence in me, but I express gratitude to them for standing by my side for so long. What their motive was, I’m not certain. But they know who they are; they know they’re great friends.
Until my blood resurfaces and hits the air to construct a scab, I’ve got naught more to do during the day. Only air-conditioning supplied by the apartment keeps me relaxed, it’s the only thing that keeps me ordinary. Sometimes the days are too protracted and I’m besieged with the nothingness that surrounds me, so my eyes flicker and my lids gloom. Then before long once all of that is complete, I drown off to sleep.
It’s kind of outlandish how I ended up like this in the past year. When I arrived in FWA last year, I was a content guy who had a lot of aspirations. My career was going to kick off and I was going to be an immense deity, one that I have always dreamed of being. No drugs, no alcohol and no anxiety; I had the whole lot going for me. But I eventually turned around when it was roughly February, I fucked my life over. Now I’m messed up, I don’t think the same anymore. It’s blatant that I’m on something, everybody knows, they can see it in my eyes. But what can I do? Treatment is a choice, but I think it’s overrated. I can get through this by myself.
Although it’s pessimistic to my social life, it’s helped a modest bit within my wrestling profession. The soreness is almost imaginary; it feels as if it isn’t even there any longer. On every juncture I think about taking an ultimate risk, it happens. My thoughts revolve into reality; I’m stoned out of my fuckin’ mind. When the needles and the heroin mix, the side-effects can be dangerous if I think a certain way. Astoundingly my opponents are still walking and the similar to myself. There’s a lot in life that I ought not to have and to walk is one of them. I did so much morally wrong things in the past while that I’m receiving all of these gifts that some are begging and praying for.
But I can alter, I can change my life. From this day onward, it’s no more fuckin’ heroin. I can battle that demon; I can transform my life and turn it around. People have that abnormal confidence in me, but I express gratitude to them for standing by my side for so long. What their motive was, I’m not certain. But they know who they are; they know they’re great friends.