2019-01-27 at 6:51 AM UTC
also benzos are shit and rot your brain and you should never take them lol. Anxiety is the feeling of being alive, relaxation is the attitude of the prey, bowing its head waiting to die.
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2019-01-27 at 8:35 AM UTC
Also there's a big difference between being numb and not anxious, and being centered and at peace. All most drugs seem to do is take the edge off to deal with the thing. Meanwhile, more helpful drugs force you to confront and contemplate your failures, shortcomings, trajectory.
2019-01-27 at 8:55 AM UTC
Also reminds me of some shit I wrote a while ago. You fags have all known me long enough, so I'm just going to use this as my gay little journal.
*In the fits of acute withdrawal, I would walk outside and immediately feel bombarded with smells and sounds and light. It was disorienting and almost psychedelic, euphoric. All the senses and feelings I'd numbed would flood back. I'd hear a song on the radio and remember a summer pool party at the house of a friend who'd died, and then in the next second I would snap back to my present self....broken, sweating. Dirty, unwashed, smelling of vonit. Snot coming down my face. And I realized that this sad thing wasnt some strange waking nightmare...it was me. And then I'd cry for a while. And I knew that everything I was experiencing was because of my reluctance or ability to grapple with a thing. I just didnt want to deal with things right then. I was depressed, and felt hollowed out, and I just felt like I couldnt do it. So inevitably, after a few minutes I'd call the connection . And the joy i would experience when I was finally back in my own room or car, with the heroin in my hand...I'm not sure if I'll even experience that much happiness seeing my newborn son. And it sickened me. But as soon as the dope hit, the edges of the fear and worry would start to melt away...like a patch of frost on a windowpane, in the warmth of a candle. And for 13 years, I slept. Like a baby.*
It's nothing new to say that drug abuse's mental component is marked by that avoidance of responsibility, choice, consequence. But it seems really obvious now.
I was thinking about how I always idolized the rebel, the villain, the black-hatted cowboy. And I know a lot of other guys- either without fathers, or fathers who were distant and detached- who were drawn to the same kind of things.The young mind was trying to model unknown information... what a "man" was supposed to be like.I dont think it was ever the violence or lawlessness we were drawn to- but rather effectiveness, resoluteness, dependability, rugged individualism. After all- it's often the same sense of duty that causes you to jump into a barfight to back a friend, or drive a car for someone in commission of a robbery- that causes a soldier to run into the view of machine gunners to rescue a wounded comrade.
.......
Idk that's all I got for now.
I also found out that theres specific legislation pertaining to the relationship between our military and sea otters. Reality stranger than fiction sometimes.
2019-01-27 at 12:31 PM UTC
It makes me question a ton of shit. I can't tell you how many times I've imagined committing some awful crime in the heat of the moment, and spending the rest of your life behind bars. The human physiology registers betrayal much in the same way it does a deadly threat. You may think yourself above certain things, but in that moment, whatever the reason- be it a flawed character or a mental break or a lack of empathy...you do it. And 30 years later you wake up and you don't even remember what kind of ice cream you used to like. That person may as well be a dead, for as little as you have in common with them. But you pay the debts that they incurred. It's kinda haunting. The same way I can only imagine what it must be like to be imprisoned or executed for a crime that you know you didn't commit. Everyone around you - down to your most trusted friends...start to believe you're a monster. And people start sending you letters less often. People stop updating you on life outside. And although your mother speaks on your behalf on the news, every year when you talk to her on the phone, her voice is a little less bright. It's simply the sound of her love for you being peeled away, layer by layer. And even the inmates don't want to have anything to do with someone so low down. And little by little, the story that they fashioned for you begins to stitch itself to your skin. So you eat by yourself in your cell and write a lot. You start to write kids books in the time you spend in your cell. Old fashioned parables to teach them right from wrong. But suddenly you don't remember which stories are even yours anymore. So when the innocence project comes to tell you they're filing an appeal on your behalf, it sounds like a fun new storyline. And the day you walk out that door, your mind is so broken, but you cry with gratitude. Because they'd killed you already. Because being able to sail away, swinging from a rafter in the garage- is so much more easy to swallow than being made to turn into an insect.
2019-01-27 at 5:52 PM UTC
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2019-01-27 at 10:33 PM UTC
Kpin binge had me ordering taco bell delivery and covered in period blood. Laundering my sheets while taking a shit and letting another one melt under my tongue.
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2019-01-28 at 2:07 PM UTC
aldra
JIDF Controlled Opposition
Originally posted by CASPER
She would've been fucking a bunch of strangers
jesus christ
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