WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24th, 2020
 to put it simply, this is fucking unfair. i constantly convince myself i don't require credit for being a decent fucking person despite the fact being a decent person drains the literal life out of me. i now fail to find a single reason why i've ever attempted to be good, to protect others, to recover.
 countless fucking times i've told myself i'm done trying. i dream of being able to completely let go, to live and behave and interact the way i'm chemically supposed to. i knew my seclusion would be fucked, i knew that would change every single aspect of my life but i still went for it because i care. and as humiliating as it is to admit that, i don't mind as much because i actually care.
 my favourite thing to do is lay down, close my eyes and actually feel the stimulant flowing through my body. i feel it physically moving within my veins and my skin and my bones, starting from my lungs and making its way spreading outwards, taking its time. that is obviously not how shit works but after using for so long you learn to visualise it, you give it a colour and a feeling and a path within you, and if you're high enough it works as good as reality. the hard part is the attachment. see, once you give it a colour and a feeling and a path within you, it becomes yours, it's an entity, it's a friend, it's your own godforsaken self. you grow closer to it every time, it feels more intimate every time, it's already within you now where's the harm in wanting to fuck it? to choke it? to force it to never leave you?
 fuck you for limiting me.