Some kinda love, Some kinda hate

My tears are so cold. They feel like ice on my cheeks. They keep pouring down, rolling over my cheeks. I have never cried when I am high before. My cotton ears got worse and the tears are still so cold. They keep running. I don't even feel them come out. My nose runs too as I type this. I'm just so worried about my friends and my family, everyone is so depressed. All you can do is sit by and watch them, one by one, each fucking themselves up in their own special way. Ironically, I'm not depressed. They put me on medication in January, and it made me suicidal, so I took myself off of it. I was completely back to normal afterwards. If anything I get stressed a lot, but that's because I'm always thinking everything over. I wonder if getting high keeps me balanced,  I guess that's dumb, but maybe it's the truth. My high is pretty light, it's been slowly fading in, it hasn't sent me on the nod, but i've been focusing on shit, so that's not surprising.

My hands seem so small and weak. I run one set of fingers over the other, barely feeling it. Everything seems really red and my back aches. My arms look pretty tan, days of walking down hot city streets. I remember stabbing the back of my left hand for a vein, feeling the buzzing pain, heating my hand. The veins all rolling away. My needles had really been meant for muscle injections, their fat tip too large to shimmy into the skinny pathways. I scratch my arm, my inner thigh itches. My head itches a lot always, but right now my right arm is slowly getting worse and worse. I hear what sounds like thunder outside. I hope it rains.

Richard and I discuss Anthony. Anthony takes up my thoughts. Everything I do seems like it would be better if Anthony were there, even cooking and shopping, just driving around. I don't know what love is, but I wonder if this is it. It seems like no guy could ever measure up to Anthony. He cares about me, he's smart, he's funny, he's cute. He's my man. = )

It's 2 a.m. the hours seems so long and yet so short. Dry lips. Tired eyes. Muffled ears. My senses feel dull. I watch the TV, people lying, pretending at junkies, they're lying is pretty dead on.

I'm going to sleep. Sleep on the thoughts that invade today.