This fucked up life of mine is once again spiralling out of control, being the closet-junkie that I am-I can't tell a freaking soul. Always having to tell a white lie or two about what is going on hear, never being able to mention my big health fear, so why this huge struggle within , shit man- where the fuck do I begin, maybe I prefer it this way and maybe I think sometime it will just go away. How lucky do I think ill be, well we could wait and see, see how much time I have left to live, how much more money I have to give, so what choice can we make, how much more trust can we break, forgiveness used to be in the order of the day, now the people just wish you will go away. So not caring about anything at all, wait let me rephrase only caring about withdrawel, how much fun is there left, I don't know can we include running away after theft? Im just joking: that's not my style- well atleast it hasn't been for a while...
' Just down the street from your hotel, baby
I stay at home with my disease
And ain't this position familiar, darling
Well, all monkeys do what they see
Help me stay awake, I'm falling...'
counting crows-perfect blue buildings
Lots of thoughts and feelings I was writing down while deep in heroin addiction, this was my therapy maybe even my journal but that’s not important. Juggling addiction, relapse, rock bottom, relationships, recovery, life and death. Inspiring journey about redemption, love, hate, mental instability and maybe even some hope and it rhymes. Laughing, crying, shouting and screaming all raw and uncensored emotions and truths. A love hate relationship with opioids and life but most importantly myself
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