Bored of Television

So much has changed in the past month... I've gone back to school... I've been having horrible panic attacks, so I've been put on medication which I take nightly so that I don't get them. It kind of works, but I haven't been getting much sleep. At the moment I'm sick with some weird bug, I feel kind of like someone has been beating me over the head with a stick and in my stomach.

My main concern for tonight: To steal or not to steal my roommate's hydrocodone cough syrup. She doesn't need it, she's no longer sick. Figured I could prob cut it with water... at first I thought about doing it with other cherry flavored cough syrup, but I don't know, don't want to kill her or anyone else if she ends up taking it for some other reason in the future. It's just chilling there on her desk taunting me... it's very tempting, and I might take some... just to see how it goes... I don't know, boredom does not bring out my best qualities.

And umm... yeah... fuck it... I'll just take some...

I might as well, right? That won't hurt anyone...

Well, perhaps I"ll sign on later if it's awesome!

- Luce

Santa was a Skinhead

My stomach is full of chocolate, milk, and percocet. I feel like a science experiment got wrong. I got sick at dinner tonight. We were at a fancy steak house, with nosy waiters and polished silver. My head first began to hurt and immediately the nausea kicked in, I could barely form sentences because there was too much noise and too many sights and thinking was too hard between the pain and the overwhelming scene. My mom took me outside and as I sat on the bench, in my cream sweater and dress shoes, wondering what was happening to my body, I began to shiver, but feel better. All I need is cold air and a quiet spot and I'm better. I have no idea what's happening to my body and it's really starting to freak me out.

Right now I'm trying to calm my friend down who thinks her boyfriend might kill himself. I feel bad. I feel powerless in plucking the advice out of the air. Usually, I know exactly what to do or say, I know how to read people. I know how to calm down fights and fix relationships and deal with bosses. But this. This is where I fail. Because no one can know exactly how a, possibly, suicidal person is going to react. In my experience, none of my friends who were suicidal have killed themselves and all we usually ever did was tell them how much we cared about them and that we were there for them. Although we couldn't help them completely, as long as we could get them to calm down enough to talk to us and get down to a more level mental state I felt better about it for the time being.

I feel so bad. I also told M, this new guy I'm seeing, not to smoke opium again. I am a hypocrite. I guess, it's to be expected. I'm doing finals this week and then off for Christmas.

I had things to say, but they're lost in my gut of sugar and oxy. Fuck.

"Santa was a Skinhead" covered by Showcase Showdown

Blank Generation

So high. I haven't been this high in a long time. It feels heavier than usual. My head feels full of fishing weights, rolling around and pulling me down. I'm doing sudoku and watching trashy tv. My favorite things to do while high. I guess it's appropriate for my generation. Multi-tasking with reality TV and a game that does not involve any true knowledge.

Hightime

I'm high. My mosquito bites are itching like no other. That's what you get for smoking weed in the woods at dusk. It's alright though. I kinda forced my friend to go to the woods to smoke, I like it there. It's quiet and calm, lots of bunnies and raspberry bushes. When I was a kid, my best friend's family always went hiking in the woods every weekend and I'd go with them. Walking across fallen trees, and picking berries, and running after the dogs. I know being from New Jersey, people don't think of that kind of shit, but that's how my child hood was. That's how my town is. It's all surrounded by woods. Behind my friend's house, there's a reservoir in the middle of the woods. We went swimming there a week ago. We smoked right before, and I only went in to my waist. I don't like how weed makes me feel anymore, almost ever. It makes me want to curl up in a ball and sleep, I sweat, feel like I'm gonna puke. I don't know why.

Mike and I aren't dating anymore. He relapsed. He didn't tell me. A mutual friend did after we broke up. The last time we were dating and hanging out, I knew he was high. His eyes were pinned from first seeing him. When we were on the bus, he said he had some oxy. He then proceeded to show me the pills as we sat side by side. I didn't really want to do them. And I said that. But I also didn't want HIM to do them, however, I knew not to say that. If you've had your mind set on it, you're bound to do it. He popped them both in front of me. Now, first off, he called them "roxy" which they're not. They're not roxycodone, which I did a few years ago, they're little blue coated pills--with an ambien like shell. They're oxy. The same kind I did tonight. Fuck man, I don't even know if I want to continue this story. He scratched his stomach until it bled later on. He dumped over the entire ash tray as he nodded off. He treated me like shit. I would rather been booted in the face, than go through that again. Fuck. Whatever. I saw him two weeks later at this big show they have every year in NYC, called "Punk Island." It's fun. Hot. Poorly planned. But free. It's fucking punk island, you can't expect much more. He was surprised when I wasn't "friendly" towards him. His eyes were pinned. He looked at me dull and glazed, and I threw fire at him. I didn't want to see him.

I haven't been high in a long time. On oxy. I did try speed for the firs time like a week ago. And when I said speed. I mean SPEED. Dextroamphetamine. Actually, I got a hold of some shit from the 70s, these dexamyl capsules. What they are is a combo of dextroamphetamine and amobarbitol. Basically, the speed keeps you wired/happy/talkative, while the barbiturate keeps the edge off and is supposed to help you get to sleep. Well, I was up for like over 24 hours, by the end I wanted to kill everyone in sight. C'est pas bon. I don't know, I have two more, I told my friend that we'd do them for this concert that's coming up in August. Should be interesting if nothing else.

Also, the most interesting news of recent, is that I am dating someone new. I'll call him P. He's cute, funny, driven (he's in 3 fucking bands, and has a full time job, and does stand up comedy), 28, and super fucking nice to me. I mean, he's just an all around great guy. Which is what I need after all of Mike's drama. But he only like smokes weed and drinks beer. So, I don't want to do drugs while with him... this is the first time. I got it in my head. I had a pill. Whatever. Just once, without talking to him or anyone else (besides all of you... or just myself... or whoever ends up reading it), isn't so bad.

I feel shitty about myself. I guess. I don't know how I landed him. Everyone is so fucked up and yet not. I've made some more friends in the punk scene, which is cool, and I guess normal. There's this one girl though, she reminds me of my friends from high school who were all super druggies. Like, I have to say, I have a sense about teenage girls who do drugs. There is just a vibe. I don't know. This morning I woke up. P laid there curled up facing away from me. It was one of his two days off per week, I wanted to let him sleep. I looked at him though, and I just felt like he didn't want me (now remember he's sleeping) to touch him. Like he just wanted to get away from me. And I laid there, and thought to myself Yeah, you're just a junky piece of shit. He doesn't want to be anywhere near you, you junky piece of shit. ETC. ETC. ad infinitum. That's the one mantra that I have. It fucking goes off whenever I feel unwanted. I do believe it and I don't. It's strange. I feel good though. For now. Fuck I feel good. It doesn't bother me right now. Nothing does. I feel a bit guilty, or I will, or I did, but right now I don't.

I watched the skyline pass by my train window tonight. The sky was a green gray and I felt like it all made sense. Because it does. I am home. Here. America. New Jersey. My hometown. New York City. And as I sit besides my friend on the curb side, her head sagging against her knees and she drunkenly sleeps, I know that there is no other place for me to go. I am simply here.

I hope you all have a lovely 4th of July!

This probably is super disjointed. I will add more sense to it sometime this week. I promise. I'm going to try and blog once a week from now on. I think it's good for me.

Check ya later,

- Lucy

Wicked Gravity

It's what I think I like to have, haha. No just kidding... okay, so it's 11:04 am... I've been awake for 14 minutes. Kind of. I wake up periodically during the morning, and once I've decided it's enough I wake up completely. Technically, I first woke up this morning at 6 am, since I left the black out curtains open and only the sheer one was left--if my room wasn't on the first floor (European) and so easy to see inside I would've left both curtains open.

It's now 11:24 and I have tea and chocolate rice crispies... yeah. The smell of weed is climbing from the concierge below me and through the cracks beneath my window. Smells pretty good. I wouldn't mind a hit. Perhaps. I'm very weird about weed, not much of a fan in general. I started snorting percocet at the same time my best friend (and in turn, me) started smoking weed, and I didn't get it. I just didn't understand why you would want to have such a shitty high. Didn't make any sense to me, still kind of doesn't. But, I still enjoy it occasionally, as long as I don't smoke too much because I have a tendency to get burnt out--which always feels to me like someone is just squeezing my skull until it's supposed to pop and that the world is way too much for me to even understand, and usually I just try and sleep it off. It reminds me of how it used to be when I would take vicodin all through out the week and then not do it on the weekends. I would just get super intense headaches, and at first I didn't connect the two.... because I was a retarded 16 year old.

Anyway, it's now 11:46 and I have to work on this paper showing Jim Carroll "my Paris." I've decided that I might as well take a little to get me in the right mindset. Haha, or something like that. Something incredibly false. I don't know, I'm doing the math... as per my usual neuroses. 3 codoliprane = 60 mg/30 = 2 pills of 5mg of hydro. Isn't that beautiful? I did place out of college math, guys, I'm obviously a true winner.

12:03... my friends just got back from Barcelona and Rome. And apparently, I'm going to go get sushi tonight. It's expensive, but I didn't buy any chicken at the grocery store because it was all expired already. I have 20 euros in cash... so... yeah. Fuck, I need to refill my navigo today, so that I don't have to wait online on Monday. A Navigo is like a metro pass, you buy a month or two weeks, and whatever zones in Paris/the banlieurs you travel through. I only have to buy two weeks because in two weeks I will be home! Home and free and probably asleep, since it will be around 6 am. Mike will hopefully be there, also hopefully asleep, he usually doesn't sleep very easily, besides when I'm around or when he's high. And we need to avoid that last part, haha...

Fuck, okay, I'm going to start this paper and not go back to sleep, which is what I did yesterday, but that was because I was upset. If I get upset, I can make myself go to sleep, and so that's what I do and pretend that it's not going on.

Check ya guys later!

- Lucy

ADDENDUM:

2:13 pm... my friend got back from Amsterdam yesterday and brought back weed. I love having friends who will trade drugs for hanging out.

I'm not down!

Apparently people are reading this right now, and I'm posting because my afternoon class was cancelled and I need to make up for my lack of writing lately.

Life is crazy as the semester is winding down. It's the sam

e old same old, lots of papers and tests, and shit I don't wanna do. I should be making straight A-/As this semester, so hopefully that'll get me into the Dean's Circle (it's an organization for people who have a certain GPA, we get to go on a trip and stuff, but only a few people are selected for it)... At the moment, I'm working on a paper about Jim Carroll, one of my favorite poets/singers/authors. We have to pick a famous (and

dead) person to show "our" Paris, too. They're always making us right bullshit about Paris and our experience here and blah blah blah. It's as if they imagine that if we all write about Paris, maybe we too could be a modern Ernest Hemingway or something. This only inflates the heads of all of the boys here who already think they are him.

Mike's alright. He was going to meetings, but some girl said she would give him two bags of H if he could get her a needle. So... yeah, what'd you think he did?

Devinez! Devinez!

If you guessed shot two bags of smack on Sunday, well, you'd be correct! Good job!

What I think is funny is that when he does things like sign off immediately, or a few other tell tale actions, that I don't realize what's going on. When he did that, or talks about watching his friends do drugs, well, no shit he's doing them too. Boys are dumb...

At the moment, I'm not doing drugs. Although, he's now offered to get us H for when I get back, which is kind of putting me in a weird place.

On one hand I think: Wow, this would be awesome... I really wanna do it.

On the other I think: Fuck, terrible idea. This will only screw me up.

I don't know, I can't tell if the two bags he was talking about were the ones he has, or ones he plans on buying. I'm not gonna say anything about it to him, even if he brings it up. I refuse to let him know what I'm thinking about shit like that, mostly because: A) if you're doing drugs with a boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse/life-partner, you definitely don't want to be the one who does not have the connections because that makes you vulnerable... and B) he supposedly wants to be clean, so I don't want me giving him the OK to go ahead and get more drugs. I'm not saying that I control his actions, but it could be the push he needs to go buy more shit, and I'd like to keep myself out of that position. Haha, I know that the A reason is pretty far down the line, but I like to be

logical, and that definitely could be a reality. The other problem with Mike and I doing drugs is that he completely discounts my experience. This is coming from the same guy who couldn't fix himself the first time at fucking 19, I was doing that at 16 by myself. He can barely handle seeing blood. I may not have sunk as low as him, but just because I have been better able to keep myself out of the places he's ended up doesn't mean that my experience is completely void. I just hate being treated like I'm some kind of unexperienced child, and he's some kind of sage-like figure. Fuck that shit.

I haven't slept for the past two nights, and I have almost no homework, so I'm thinking that today I could just fucking kick back, take some shit, and not do shit for the rest of the day. Besides doing laundry, which needs to be taken care of today... or I'm gonna, well, begin to smell... not really. I just will have to wear my less desireable clothes, haha. Not that I'm some kind of pinnacle of fashion, fuck, everyone here thinks they're soo fancy. It's kind of nauseating. I really wanna vomit on a lot of them. Especially some of the Europeans, who think that they are just so above all the Americans, it's really ridiculous--as if France was some kind of pinnacle of good living, let's look at one of the most racist, anti-semetic, and judgmental countries I've ever been to. It's honestly offensive. It also has some of the scariest men ever, I have never feared men, not pulling my drunk friend off of Avenue B at 12 at night, not walking down Jersey St. on Staten Island at 3 am, it was never like this, where every man I see I am afraid is either gonna yell at me, or throw water on me (as one did), or simply give me creepy stares.

I want to get back to NYC! Summer in the city, that's all I want. = )

Well, I'm gonna go do more nothing,

I'll check ya later,

- Lucy

P.S. the first photo is of Mike and I... he will try and say that he's not extremely mushy... but he is (I consider that photo, exhibit A). And the second one is actually of me back home at Dunkin Donuts!!! I miss it so much...

I'm Bored

Should I get high?

Should I do my reading?

Should I cook dinner?

Maybe I should do these in order... maybe I should put the water on to boil now and read, then get high... oh and I have to do French. Yeah, I have to memorize facts about a celebrity couple. Did I ever tell you that my French class is such bullshit? It's ridiculousness piled on to ridiculousness... I've read 200 pages of a book in French, and my teacher wants me to memorize shit about a celebrity couple. I'm thinking Sid and Nancy. Terrible, haha. Yeah, and I have to read one of the tales from "The Canterbury Tales" which is basically like stabbing myself in the brain over and over. I was given popcorn though, so perhaps tonight will be good.

I'll blog more when something actually interesting his happening.

Junky Puppy

Sitting in the bathroom next to the heater, I watched his head go down slowly to his chest. The spliff in his hand spiraling out waves of smoke. I watched him, quietly. He looked so innocent and adorable, like a puppy. He slowly opened his eyes again and took a pull from the spliff and then passing it to me. The codeine had surprisingly worked on him. I was impressed. He had taken about 9 of them, so I wasn't that surprised, I had taken 8. We ended up curled up in bed watching the Dark Knight. Alright, well, technically I only listened to the Dark Knight. He would occasionally say something to me, and I would force myself to respond.

I miss him not being here, it really sucks that he had to go back to New York. We had a whole talk one night in a park for hours just about random drug-related crap. I worry about him being out there. It really makes his depression worse. He told me that he doesn't want to go back on H though because he doesn't want to be trapped in NY. He's so sweet, it sucks that he's really in that mental bind. He keeps talking about marriage. We'll see. = )

School's crazy right now. Literally insane. I feel like I'm back at the shore being crashed on by the waves, struggling to keep up above the cresting waves. I think that I might get an A- in French, so that'll be good. Last semester I beasted my classes, I got straight A-s and then an A in the preliminary French class. My GPA was a 3.73 out of a 4.0. Trust me, it's pretty crazy, it's the highest one of I've heard out of anyone.

My friend from home is coming in on Sunday, so I gotta start thinking of things to do with her during the week and stuff. My midterms are coming up, I have one on Tuesday and then a paper and a exam the next week, and then the week after that I have my big exam in social. Kind of crazy, but I'll make it through.

All the papers I've written this semester for writing have been about drugs, haha. It really entertains me which is kinda fucked up. I'm writing my next paper about "rebellion," so that'll be interesting.

Anyway, I'm going to go back to...

whatever the fuck I do on a Friday at noon,

- Sarah = )

Umm... Happy New Year... or something like that...

Okay, so because I suck at doing this right now... I'm just gonna make a list of awesome shit happening...

-Seeing Mike on Saturday for the first time in 4 MONTHS.

-Punk show my friend set up for me the next Saturday, all of my fav bands are playing.

-Punk show the weekend after that which I set up.

-Seeing all of my friends...

-Hopefully getting to jam before I go back to Paris...

-Oh yeah, and I've been sober from all stupidity for 2 and a half like legitimate months or so... and I was really worried I would fuck it up when I got home, but I haven't, and I don't plan on it.

- IT'S THE BEGINNING OF A NEW AWESOME DECADE... I go between really freaking the fuck out about the new year to be excited. I'm excited. A bit scared, but excited nonetheless.

- I wrote a whole paper for school about when I first started doing drugs and the lying that goes along with it. I talked about Laura ODing and dying, and about me being one of the lucky ones, and blah blah blah other self-obsessed crap... I did end up getting an A- on it though.

I really want to do drugs. I do. But then I try to remind myself that it'll only make me feel like terrible crap afterwards. That'll I'll get high for a while and push myself down into a hole afterwards. I'm gonna do my best to keep away from drugs, because I feel like the longer I stay sober, the better my moods will be, and the easier it will be to keep away.

An entire life of no getting really high? It sounds kind of sucky. But, I'm gonna keep trying to not think of that aspect and instead focus on just keeping it up for now.

Everyone at my school knows, my friends have called me a "drug addict," talked about my "track marks" (these kids wouldn't know track marks if they had them on their own arms, but I'm trying not to really yell at them or get offended), and enjoy reminding me not to do drugs. It's good in some ways and bad in others. I mean, I just hate that name "drug addict." I don't know, I try not to rock the boat because they mean well. I definitely am glad to have people looking after me.

One of the times when I took all of this codeine in Paris (haha, okay, so retarded... I'd never tried it and I decided to just get high, so this was my easiest method) I had basically an allergic reaction. My face grew flushed, I was hot, and itchy. Not like the regular kind of itch, a terrible completely overwhelming itching which covered my sweaty, red face and body. I took some cough syrup because it had antihistamine and suddenly it all went away. After that, I never had a problem with taking that shit again. It was extra bad because 2 of my friends were there and had no idea what was going on. One of my friends, had lots of "druggie" friends back home, so I'm sure she guessed something, I'd also told her about my past. But my other friend, Susana, I'm sure had no idea what was going on. I felt kind of bad, but I was fairly high afterwards, so it was fine with me.

So, it's now time to bring in 2010... a new decade. The first no opiated New Years for me since I started doing drugs. I'm gonna get drunk, and I probably won't really smoke any weed. I got way too high last night. Lauren told me it was called "creeper weed," because you'd smoke some and then a few minutes later you would get a lot higher and you wouldn't notice. I was literally like special ed level last night. Lauren even told me as much. I don't think I can handle it. It really made me depressed and it just sucked in some ways. But I have a few beers (aka 2) and some rum (aka about 4 shots...), and I will drink all of this and then Nina is bringing a bottle of vodka, so I'll be well taken care of. I would rather get high, but not happening.

Anyway, I hope you all have an awesome New Year's!

- Lucy = )

I'm dating a junkie...

My boyfriend has been doing heroin since I've been gone. He's shot 80 bags in the span of a month or so. He told me on Tuesday night... I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about it. It's just like a very confusing thing emotionally. I'm really happy that he told me. I'm angry because he was saying all this nice shit while he was high, and that could've just been the drugs. I'm super pissed that he blew his money on dope and now may not be able to come to Paris in February. I'm also annoyed that I worried about him when he said he was getting sick and shit, thinking he was actually sick, but it was probably just dope. Mostly, I'm worried about him. Everyone I know is telling me to dump him. He quit on Saturday and I think he's doing a lot better today, didn't say he was feeling sick or anything.

This whole thing is just busting me. I don't know what to think, or how to feel. He told me he loved me last night. I believe it. I love him, too. It's just hard to put everything together, it's not nice little boxes. He also reminded me that he had warned me before I left, which I think is really not a good excuse. Yeah, he warned me, and I knew it was possible, I was really worried about it, but that doesn't mean I was mentally prepared for it to happen.

Anyway, if I get back in January, and he hasn't stayed clean, then I'm gonna dump his ass. I know that junkies only love junk, and I'm not gonna be the third wheel to heroin.

So, yeah, that's been my week. I also had midterms, think I did well, sorry for my suckage at posting shit.

Later!

Love you guys!

- Lucy B.

Because this is kind of a downer, I'm putting in some pics of me with my new pink hair... because, yeah. Don't want to bum you guys out.

Stupidity Tries

France is one of those countries that has over the counter codeine bullshit. I call it bullshit because you gotta take at least 30 mg of codeine to equal 5 mg of hydrocodone. That's a fucking load of powder you gotta cram down your throat (I can't put it up my nose, it insights immediate retching and a deep nasal burn--one of these days I'm gonna puke for no good reason, other than I can't keep shit out of my nose). But, I mean, why not give it a whirl right? Buy a box of 16, so take like 5 or so, each time, and the high isn't really bad. I took a nice nap the other week, snug under my blanket and feeling okay. So, I don't know, it's alright set up. It's cheap as fuck. I mean, really really dirt cheap. And it's completely legal.

The first time I went in, I was really nervous. Like, I was almost shaking. I don't know, shit like this, makes me nervous, I know nothing bad should happen, but I can't help it. I walk into the pharmacy--I must have looked nervous--and I stuttered out the name in my terrible French accent. The woman says: "Hold on, she speaks English." Her coworker walks to the counter and I begin to tell her. She repeats the name and grabs it, and then says to me, obviously trying to shake me: "This is a pain killer." In my mind, I thought, "no shit? Really? Because I wouldn't specifically ask for it if I didn't know what it was." But, in my nervous American voice I said: "umm, I know." She sells it to me, but not before saying as I walk out: "No more sick today." And I just laughed. I guess she thought I was a sick junky or something, I don't know, nerves fucking kill me, and apparently they manifest themselves oddly to other people. Je ne sais pas, c'est étrange.

Anyway, I'm gonna lie down, because my stomach is all fucked up. It's been weird since I puked from too much liquor on halloween. I fucking hate alcohol.

I'll catch ya guys later!

Love,

- Lucy! = )

3 Days and it's getting better.

I don't know why, but lack of sleep and smoking hash really did me in on Sunday. I just felt really shitty mentally. BUT today's a good day. I don't know, yesterday and today were fine. Really, not bad at all. I sent Mike a copy of that thing that I posted on Sunday, I'm wondering what he'll think. He makes me nervous when I say things such as that, way more pressure than when I'm showing it to people who have never had drug problems. I'm worried about what he thinks about it and about me and, I don't know, I don't wanna get like a lecture or anything.

Well, it is time for dinner and then homework. I'll talk to you later!

Bon journée!

- Luce! = )

Back to square 1.

I smoked some hash, so I haven't decided if it means me breaking my sobriety or not. I'd like to say 35 days! But... I don't think I can. I don't think I believe it. So, I'll start over again. Today is day 1. Anyway, here's this thing I wrote, I'm really digging it, I think it definitely captures how I'm feeling at this point in my life:

It's that over-powering tug of war that you play in your mind. One side of you is dragging you by the arm, as you're kicking your feet trying to stop them from taking you away, and your heels are dragging, but you can't seem to stand back up, so you're just kind of flailing there. And the other side of you is trying not to get kicked, and just wants to grab a hold of your feet, but it's forced to dodge the blows you're about to give it. Hands darting in and out, around your soaking wet sneakers, unable to grasp them.

The snow is cold, and it seeps into your pants, slowly the black asphalt is sloughed away, where you've been struggling. The sky is really dark, pitch black. A few clouds are there, but the moon can't seem to be seen and it's so cold. That smell of crisp winter keeps hitting you in the face, smacking the inside of your nose. But the struggle continues.

And when I stare down into the face of temptation, where the decision has to be made, that part that's dragging me away always seem to win. No matter how much I flail and flop about and try hard to stand back up, I'm being taken off my feet at every move. My friend becomes my enemy, and they hold in their hands the key to my destruction. I stare at it. I feel that dirty feeling. It's creeping back again. Over my shoulder, into my hair, through my ears, and swathing my brain in warm cotton. I stare at it. It's not my first choice.

And my other friend is pulling my arm for me stand up, to get going, to back away from it. But I can't. It's filling my eyes. My brain is locked in. I've got that junky tunnel-vision. Nothing is going to stop me from this. All other logical senses are shut off, as the brain back-fires and restarts trying to pull the plan together.

My arm feels a weird ache and I think back. Back to the bathroom and the needle and the simple formula. I miss it. I feel it in my face and my brain and my heart feels like someone's stomping on it, like you've ripped it out and shoved it back in at the wrong angle. And all I can feel is want. No emotion seems to rest in me besides need and desire and that feeling of emptiness.

The future seems empty. Without that feeling to push me forward. On towards Tuesday, and Friday, and Sunday, towards the day when I will feel this on my own.

And so I sit in the Parisian park with my friends. It's cold and dark out and the lights are glowing. Our drinks are warm and our throats burn. So I stare at the hash. I think about 35 days. I reflect on the fact that I haven't been clean for this long since I kneeled at the foot of the toilet, that first time at 16, heaving out bile with my father in the door way asking if I was alright.

So I put it to my lips and inhale. And now all that's left is a need. It's worse than before. I can't take it. Those thoughts pile in again.

Still I'm there, struggling in the snow, with my arms pulled up above my head, and my stomach exposed to the bite of the cold wind. I wonder if it's better to just let them drag me off, to give in, it seems like less of a hassle at the moment.

But I remember, it'll only get worse when it's gone. All of these moments will only double ten-fold, and I won't even stand a chance, so I continue the struggle. I know it's futile. Maybe one day, I'll finally be able to wriggle out on to the asphalt, turning around and stand up, to limp home and hang my damp clothes in the bathroom. That bathroom that used to be my home away from home, but now it's just a bathroom and a memory. You can still see the specks of blood on the light fixture if you look up there, I couldn't clean them all off. I wouldn't want them to go though, I need to know that it wasn't a dream. Not something I cooked up in a teenager's head for some poor excuse for attention. Teenage angst crushed into a vein, and splattered up on the walls.

I can't tell if I want the struggle to end. At the moment, I'll keep flailing and flopping, just to make sure I have enough time to finally make up my mind.

Sometimes I read the blogs of people who have kids that are junkies. I feel bad for them. I feel bad for my parents, too, in a way. I don't know. Weird shit. It doesn't hit home so much for me, cause of my parents really ignoring the facts. And that pisses me off now, because if someone had really tried to stop me, I might not be having as hard a time. I know, I can't blame other people. And I'm not. It was my choice. But at 16, I really didn't realize what I was getting into fully. It's some dumb shit.

I can't sleep right now. Laying in bed, pulling at my skin, curling into a ball, trying to make the thoughts go away. It's so much need right now. It's unbearable. It's like I want to crawl out of my own skin. That hash has made my cravings 20 times worse. I think about drinking some vodka, to help me sleep, but that is BAD. BAD BAD BAD. I can't use alcohol like that. I will become an alcoholic. I really need to finish that bottle off, and get alcohol out of my room. I feel like I"m about to rip off the skin on my face and arms and stomach, just grabbing at it and pulling on it. I can't take tonight. All of my muscles want to tense up and I just want to curl up into a ball and get high. I need to get high. But mostly, right now, I need to sleep.

What keeps me from getting high, if you're really wondering, is that I'm really fucking afraid of scoring on the streets. Especially in a country where I don't know the language, it's just scary. And in NYC, although I know the language, I don't know, I'm too nervous about getting ripped off on the streets or getting arrested. Damn, I want it so bad right now.

Hopefully, I can get over the hump... the one good thing is that, a little hash, isn't gonna take me back to square one depression wise. I'm just hoping the intensity of my cravings goes away in a few days (preferably tomorrow, but I'm not holding my breath).

Anyway guys, I'll talk to you tomorrow, hope you have a better night than I am!

- Lucy

34 days... and it's BLANCHE NUIT!

Tonight the entire city of Paris is staying up to run around and see all the crazy art exhibits... I finished my homework earlier and I'm just kind of chilling out, thinking about working on some other shit I have to get done. I feel like it would be a lot easier to stay up all night if I had some coke... not that it'd be pleasant the next day. But it's nice to stay up all night and not even realize the sun is rising and it's morning until 7 am.

I'm gonna make myself a screwdriver to carry along with me on the journey... and slowly, get fucked up. I'm sure we'll buy beer and shit as we go, which is what I want. I want to slowly dive into drunk land, because if I get drunk before hand it'll be way unpleasant.

Last night my friend sprang into my room around 2 am, high on hash, but I was alright cause I was lonely and pissed at some of my other friends for flaking on me and forcing me to spend the night alone. We talked to Mike on the phone for a bit, cause I told him I was going to beforehand, and she was kind of bitchy about that (as if she had the right to be, I was putting her up for the night... not by choice). Anyway, we started talking about drugs, and how people here are behind us in the whole partying thing. At 18, I'm much chiller than I was at 16 or 17, I kinda grew out of the whole LET'S GET FUCKED UP ALL WEEKEND deal, so we're just at a different place in our life. She was talking about how she almost did heroin once, but the needle freaked her out, and I had had a little to drink, so I rolled up my sleeve and I was just really telling her how I fucking missed the needle, and I don't know, it's that yearning that I sometimes get, but I really don't usually tell people about it. I woke up, at 8 am, still missing it, I don't know, it's a bad week for me and the cravings. Anyway, I kicked her out of my room, the metros are open, she could go home now. I don't know, I kinda wanted to be left alone and have my room to myself again.

It was weird man, I don't like really talking about that kinda stuff for that reason, but I mean, sometimes my mouth gets the better of my brain.

Talk to you all tomorrow!

- Lucy = )

33 days and Trainspotting...

I'm watching Trainspotting, as is my custom when I am sick. Ugh... I probably shouldn't be watching it right now... but I am.

I'm so bored right now, and I just don't know what to do with myself.

I missed out on this trip because I didn't feel good when I woke up. They were going to Vaux le Vicomte which is a pretty awesome looking place... whatever I'm going to finish up my homework and rest. Whatever.

Shitty mood.

I wrote a limerick yesterday:

There once was a dirty, anarchist punk

Who spent his days and nights getting quite drunk

But all of that liquor

Just made him sicker

So he decided to stare shooting junk.

Limericks don't have to make sense, which I had to point out to Mike when he was like: "junk would make him just as sick." Mike is a dirty anarchist punk, so I was like, "this is not about you." I like limericks, they're fun to write. Ugh. I hate myself today.

Tomorrow will be better.

- Lucy

31 days and I wanna get HIGH.

I wanna get high. I wanna get loaded and nod out and stay there, until I come out of it, but only to get high again.

Tonight is a bad night... I want drugs. I want drugs. I wanna shove it into my arm and my nose and my mouth, and fill 'em all up, until I can't put in anymore.

I'm depressed tonight for no reason. And depression for no reason to me is always related to a lack of drugs, in general.

Did I mention Mike used to counsel addicts? Yeah... so I'm dating a cleaned up junky and a drug counselor... It's weird man. I don't know, it makes me almost uncomfortable, cause sometimes he says shit and it's just like: "oh yeah... you're a drug counselor... fuck." I prefer the cleaned up junky Mike, to the drug counselor Mike... but what can ya do?

I think what pissed me off a lot before was, I guess due to lack of explanation, he didn't realize how constant my drug use was since the age of 16. I've probably gotten high at least once a week, if not multiple times, since that time in my life... so to do an entire month sober, is such a mind fuck. And I wanna get high. I wanna get high so bad. I wanna eliminate carve up those bits of my brain that are burning right now. It's a headache that makes me want to bang my brain into the wall. And incinerate it. Incinerate that desire, that's burning up my brain - it's just fighting fire with fire.

Whatever. I have one pill here. I filched it off a friend's desk. He didn't want it... I might eat half of it, it's a sleeping pill. Same kind of shit as ambien, if you take it and then stay awake you do dumb shit... DAMN I WANNA GET HIGH. But I gotta save myself. I just don't wanna throw away such a good amount of time on one little pill. I don't consider drinking breaking my sobriety (which is unfair or something? I don't know... not completely logical) because drink has never been a problem for me... not saying that it couldn't become one... It's just, umm..., I don't know, the little reprieve that I need.

AN HOUR LATER:

I feel better... It just takes time. That need decreases and slowly your brain comes back to its logical side and you go: "Thank g--, I stayed sober..."

Catch ya later kids!

- Lucy :-)

25 days... so you get a video?!

DON'T WATCH THIS IF YOU ARE AN ALCOHOLIC

YOU WILL BE OFFENDED.

DON'T READ THE REST OF MY BLOG POST, IN FACT...

YOU MIGHT BE OFFENDED AGAIN.

So... today I was done early with classes because I had my exam today. Basically, I got home around like 12:30 and have just been chilling out ever since. Cooked some lunch, put the dishes away, and put more money on my phone... Today is blah. I don't like how my brain is beginning to lean towards alcohol as a way to calm itself. That whole flipping the switch thing is something I wanna keep away from alcohol, 'cause that's just a bad bad trap I could fall into. Honestly, I should really stay away from that and oddly enough caffeine. I have begun to drink coffee as if it were a drug, and I just want to feel that burst of energy... BAD. So, in short, anything addictive I gotta keep away from my body for the next I'd say month or so at the least, just to make sure I really will be alright. I know that once I get over this first hump of shittiness, staying sober will become a lot easier task, it's always those first few months that can really make or break you.

Also, just so you can see my man, here's a pic of us together:

Yeah... we're cute like that. = P

Anyway, I'll probably update in a bit, out of boredom.

Check ya guys later!

- Lucy = )

24 days of greatness!

Today was awesome! I got another test back, and it was another A! Yeah, I kind of knew I wasn't bad at languages, but I feel really competent right now. Mike (my anarchist, cleaned-up-heroin-addict, 22 year old, boyfriend) distracted me for a good 2 hours of time telling me all the things he wanted to do to me over the internet. I love him, what can I say?

It's weird because I'm not used to knowing junkies, I've known a few and they were mostly all cleaned up, or I wasn't aware of them doing the drugs they were doing at the time. It's cool because I am really honest with him about what I'm thinking, but I think that he kind of shrinks away from it. I don't know, that bothers me a bit, but I don't wanna fuck up his sobriety by making him think about it too much. When I first met him, like the 2nd or 3rd date? I told him about how I got my scar and shit, and he said A) he had never met a girl who had shot dope, and B) he had never met anyone who shot pills. That kinda surprised me, haha. So, I think, that, it was two firsts for both of us: I was meeting a junky that I was actually friends with, and he was meeting a girl junky.

Hahaha, I know, how romantic?

But, I gotta keep myself away from thinking about us doing drugs together, although I like it. We've only smoked weed together, besides once when we did E with his sister and her husband. Weed isn't much of a turn on, 'cause it's not much of a drug. But watching him snort the E, it was hot, I wanted to prove to him like: yeah, I can keep up with you, we're drug-equals. Maybe it's the whole thing that I never talked about my drug use until after my real everyday slog of drugs was over with, and so I now wanna brag... But not much to brag about?

I had a really bad period this summer. I came into a lot of oxy. And everytime I would get it, I would do one medium sized line... and then the next day I would do one line, and then do another line an hour later. Until, I would have a fucking pile and 4 hours it would be all up my nose. I also broke out my old kit, but the works were too gunged up to be used... thank god, I guess. I probably would've been in a worse predicament. I think that Mike may have noticed the few little bruises and bumps that occurred, but I think he just thought it was part of the larger scar there. It's such a fucked up area, which is good because it disguises bruises really easily, you can't tell besides like that first day. I haven't shot up in... like a year and a half. Holy fuck, seems like forever ago and like yesterday.

This woman had to draw blood out of my arm one morning, and she really fucked it up. I don't even mean like a little pricks, it was as if she had never tried to hit a vein before. Okay, so I know the veins in my right arm are hard to hit. I'm pretty sure I've cried out of frustration trying and failing to hit any in that arm. So, after digging, and I mean, re-angling the needle while it was still in my arm, she moved on to my forearm. Now, maybe I'm allowed to shove a needle all the way through my own vein, but someone else isn't. She put the needle THROUGH my vein, and brought it back up to try and catch it. The bruise was huge and Mike was asking me where she tied me off and shit, haha, he was like: I could've done this for you, and I wouldn't have hurt you.

I know, I know, I shouldn't be so enamored of that... but I can't help it? I love drugs. I love him. Together, it just sounds like heaven. That's honeslty what I kept thinking after we fucked (well, I fucked) for the first time... the only thing that could make this better was a shot or a line... Damn. Now, that's saying something in my mind. If the only thing better than what just happened, is victory in drug form, then obviously, something is going right.

I feel like, though, at 18, I can't promise I'm not going to "experiment" with harder drugs than weed and X... I don't wanna do speed, not so good with the uppers. Coke is not good for me either. X was alright, but really fucks with me, I'd do it again, it's fun, but definitely not something I'd wanna do a lot. I wanna do H so bad, cause I know I'd enjoy it more than the other drugs that I'm gonna have to do instead.

I cried the other night thinking about a completely sober life, but today I feel like I could do it. I'm definitely getting the whole waves of depression. Last night was bad, today is alright, tomorrow who knows... I'm getting a little paranoid too, which isn't so awesome. I gotta remind myself though when I have those thoughts that it's just my brain reaching for something to get me back to doing drugs. I do wanna stay away for a few years, and see about really staying clean for a while, like getting through college. I mean, it scares the shit out of me, which I think is weird, but it's my biggest fear. No drugs. No relief from my emotions. That whole having to face shit and my mind doesn't work well, but I'm gonna try. Worse comes to worse I start using drugs again, not the end of the world, it's just a fact that I have to learn to live with, that I've fucked up my thought processes and that's the way it's gonna be probably the rest of my life.

But, if Mike gets back on heroin, which he has warned me might happen, I have two options: A) leave him if I don't plan on using with him because you can't really be sober dating a junky, I don't think that would work for me, or B) going down that path with him. I don't think I'll have to make that decision though anytime soon, haha, so I got time to decide if it does come to that. Hopefully it won't. Hopefully I'll adjust to the sober life and be a sober prospering person for the rest of my life... hahahaha, yeah, doesn't even sound real to me either.

Well, I don't know, I'm in a good mood tonight guys!

Love to all of your who are still here!

And anyone new!

- Lucy! = )

22 days of legitimate sobriety...

So... I haven't blogged in forever because summer was insane lots of boy shit lots of drug shit lots and lots of shit.

But I'm now in Paris, and I'll get back to what went on over in a bit for those of you who don't know. SO I'M HERE.

I am fiending. I am fiending like I always do without drugs for a long period of time. Not that I would really know what a long period of time is, I did like 3 months sober two springs ago, but I started up again because I just can't seem to stay away. Umm... so yeah, I'm stuck sober. And I guess I'm staying sober because I know that I can't do drugs around Mike, and I like him enough that that matters to me. Not that we're together right now, I just know that if I started doing anything serious back in NYC he would either begin doing it with me, or he would cut me off from him completely. That's the upside and downside to have a cleaned up junky for a bf. He pisses me off occasionally because he talks to me like I'm some little puppy, as if I didn't know that if I (me, not the general I) started doing smack I would get hooked. I wanted to be like: oh, thanks, because obviously I don't know how my own fucking brain works, and hadn't figured that out for myself before.

I see the junkies on the metro here, one guy had a really fucked up arm, scabbed up with shadows running all over it. I just sat there feeling sick, my stomach has been fucked up this week. Everything in my digestive tract seems to get liquified, I've been getting the sweats too, and feeling dizzy... WHAT THE FUCK? I really don't know what I did to my body, and why it's sending me these signals, which I usually translate into: WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SHOVE THAT INTO YOUR BLOODSTREAM MORON? But at the moment, I'm clean... but it's bad.

I'm not clean for the right reasons, and I think this is gonna end in a crash and burn when I end up back in NYC... because right now all I wanna do is get high. I wanna get high so bad. I have a sleeping pill I swiped from this guy, he didn't want it, so I figured he wouldn't notice it was gone and def wouldn't blame me... I looked up what it was, sadly I gotta swallow it, but ehh, I figure I'll save it for a day that I'm in need.

I keep getting bad drugs dreams. They were bad in August, still bad now... I just miss drugs. I want them so bad. I don't want to have to deal with the inside of my mind. I just want to delete it all. I WANT TO HIT THE FUCKING BUTTON AND ERASE MY STUPIDITY AND MY ISSUES AND MY WANTS. I wanna pretend that I'm not me for the next few fucking hours and put my mind on hold.

I just told Mike I had a blog, not like he's ever gonna see this shit. And he was like: oook, straange. And I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up, 'cause he can be faulted for a lot more shit than me blogging.

Sometimes, I just want to do smack just to spite him, just a little, just for him thinking he knows everything there is to know about me and drugs. We kind of admitted to each other that we wish we could just get high together and lay around in his apartment together... which could be followed by another story where I passed on nodding out with him there, which kind of sounds like the nicest thing ever. I'd love to wake up and see him there. I had my wisdom teeth out, and shit, anyway, I didn't do it, figured that A) I wouldn't be able to fuck and B) don't need to do that in front of him, when he's working hard to stay clean.

I'm thinking about December, going to TX, I know my family has some things to my liking in the medicine cabinet, I stole some last year... but I felt REALLY guilty. Like, probably the most guilt and embarrassment and shame I have ever felt in my life. I can't even explain it.

The other night I was laying in bed, and I was thinking about being sober, and how I could be possibly facing a life with no more opiates. ever. Never ever gonna feel it again. And I cried. I'm not even gonna lie and pretend like I can handle things like that normally, because apparently I can't. I can't do drugs like a normal person. I can't fucking handle anything. I fucking cried.

But I didn't tell Mike. I feel bad. I feel just ashamed that I'm so fucking weak.

Whatever.

I'm weak.

I'm 18 and I wanna 'experiment' (yeah, right, we can pretend it's experimentation, I'm still young enough to call it that)...

BTW, I STILL fucking hate uppers. I did x. WHY? Because well, Mike was doing it, and his sister and her husband were doing it, and it was fun... kinda. But my brain was like YOU ARE AN IDIOT, AND I'M DITCHING THIS SHIT. I swear to god my brain wanted to jump out of my fucking skull...

Well, anyway, I'm alone in Paris with my classmates... I'm a cleaned up junky... am I junky? WHAT THE FUCK AM I EVEN? I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I just want the wanting to stop. I want to be normal. I hate it.

Fucked up in the big city,

- Lucy...

Devil's Playground

I'm still sick. My mind is still awash with my own shortcomings, but it's not as bad as it was. I wish I had gone to school today. I'm also pissed at myself because I'm going to miss pit orchestra practice tonight (I'm shooting my conductor an e-mail as we speak). Anyway, I feel like doing updates an all of the different drug schemes that are floating around my friends and world:

JUNK

This girl who is considered a creep and a snitch went to rehab. She's friends with a few of my friends, and is totally in love with my friend Helen (who happens to be straight, haha). I'll call her "Hannah." Anyway, she went away, and was considered a terrible influence because she got someone else I know into E. I never got the appeal of E, but whatever, to each their own. Anyway, she was sent off to rehab in December or November, but the reason was never really open for discussion or known. The other day me and my other friend are talking, and he tells me that she was in rehab for junk. Now, this wasn't a surprise. I've known that there was H in my town since like 8th grade, but I didn't know anyone who was into it besides my good friend's older sister and aunt/uncle who are junkies. This explains a lot because "Hannah's" facebook always had weird shit on it like, her girlfriend saying, "you know sharing needles is uncool blah blah blah talk to me." I thought that was funny at the time, because really, you wouldn't delete that comment.

PILLS

I don't know if I talked about Nina's forays into opiates, but I will now. That child is ridiculous occasionally. She's sitting infront of me in class scratching. Constantly scratching. Finally, I ask her what she's on. She says vicodin. I'm like, dude, that's the reason you're itchy. Apparently this surprised her, haha. Anyway, I didn't think she liked opiates at all. But, she's trying to buy some percs from this girl in our grade. Lauren told me, and so I texted Nina to see if I could get in on it, and she told me to talk to the girl. Here's the thing, Nina is friends with everyone, and everyone likes her, most people know me, but not personally, and not everyone likes me. I don't know why I couldn't just giver her fucking money, and she could get me shit. Anyway, I dropped it after I asked her how much a pill and what the mgs were, and she obviously had no idea.

Silly kid, pills are for adults.

COKE

Nothing on this front to speak of. Still too afraid of M. Haha, I'm such a coward. After I get some money for my b-day, I'll see about speaking to her.

SALVIA

Worried about Tanzen having that in her possession.

1.) She can be impulsive.

2.) She has never taken any kind of psychedelics.

3.) I don't want her parents finding it, and her getting in trouble.

I love Tanzen, but that child better not get into trouble, haha. She needs people to watch her back.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I worked on my vest and put on some nice stencils and shit. I'm going to post pictures of the process... because who wouldn't want to see that? No one. That's who. = ) Also, I'm in a way better mood than yesterday. I'm going to work on Latin and English and shit, and just get done with my homework so I don't have to worry about it. My dad's being annoying, but whatever, he's leaving this afternoon, so I'll have the house to myself.

I'm just chilling out at the moment, watching TV. My stomach is hurting like a bitch, and my throat is really sore. It's not much of a party, but I'm trying to stay content. I've been drawing a lot, which is always good. Playing some guitar. Just trying to keep myself sane and happy.

= )

I hope you guys are having a great week!

Love,

- Lucy

BTW, the stencils on my jacket are: GB CREW (on the back, under the collar), Circle Jerks (I did the lettering, which I'm proud of), The Germs (it's a dog with it's tongue sticking out), Stiff Little Fingers (not really though, before the stencil said fuck you under it, but my mom got upset, so I took that part off of it), The Stooges, The Ramones (I did some nice cross stitches on that patch, its really cool looking in my opinion), then there is my Zero Boys pin and my Bomb the Mall patch (just a slogan). I'm pretty happy, I'll probably add more studs and shit, but otherwise, it's pretty much complete. = )