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Addiction - Blog Posts
Watch "Tom MacDonald - BEST RAPPER EVER" on YouTube
Amazing. Nothing unusual there.
Laughter feels good for about 3 seconds.
Then melancholy quickly plummets into despair and longing.
Must ignore
Must push back
d o n t t h i n k a b o u t i t
Thinking about a future without you used to fill me with feelings of dissatisfaction.
Now, with no other options, it fills me with grief. A dread so deep, you almost don't want to.
I really don't want to...
Envisioning a future, a happy future, without you is more difficult for me than imagining I am a dragon or a shrimp. It feels empty and fake; a blank page covered in brand-name stamps.
Today's not really different.
Just another fucking day.
Wake up, get dressed, go to work and wait.
Waiting is what got me here
Waiting for something impossible to happen.
We should have left the first time you asked me.
But you wanted me to finish college,
Wanted me to follow my dreams.
Too bad you couldn't summon the strength when you most needed it
To keep holding on for me.
I had hoped you'd do it for yourself,
But clearly
Neither of those were enough.
The nature of our relationship was not one born of lust or desire. It was irrational, illogical, and instinctual.
Ours is a connection, a magnetism, two polarized forces turned to attract the other. It is an orbit born of gravity and inertia, a centripetal force between us two constantly keeping our centers inseparable.
I felt you in my chest, beneath my sternum, and in my gut, between the hollow of my ribs. I feel the place where our souls used to dance like a giant's fist has ripped out my insides.
I want to scream, and everytime silence finds me, crawls inside me all I hear is my broken voice screaming your name until my lungs ache and my throat bleeds and my blood drips from the corners of my mouth and all I taste is salt.
I have lost the desire to numb myself because I know there is nothing that will numb me. Anything I do will crank my ribs open and lay everything I no longer have bare for anyone to see. It is a dark bloody husk inside my chest with shriveled lungs and a bruised heart that kept beating for you and believed in your promises and aspirations.
My grief is unmatchable, it refused to grow and move, I remain stuck now as I have for the past two munths; in firm denial.
Our connection is irrational, illogical...
And now so am I.
People always say "you matter in this world and to others", I know I matter.
People always say "you can get through it", I know I can.
People always say "you will get better", I know I will...
People always say "you can be happy", I'm sure I can.
People always say "it will get better", statistically that is fact.
People always say "you never know", and they are correct.
People always say "you are not alone", and I'm not.
But the person who mattered is gone, I don't want to fight anymore, I want to be better, but I don't want a different happiness, I don't want a new better, I know he is gone, the person I most wanted to be with is gone.
I matter, I know it will pass but sometimes...
Sometimes I just want to take the only option I have to get him back...
But I won't.
Because he made me a promise, and now that promise is mine to uphold.
I promised I would live on...so I will.
No matter what.
me transforming into a tiktok hater every time i open a new platform (it’s 4 am and i have 4 hours of screen time on tiktok) (i’m actually addicted)
They’re done!!
I love these two🥺❤️
Passion is the primary addiction of the artist. It is what will cause her/him most of its questionning, anger, pride, it shall be the adrenaline needed to feel alive. And once you get addicted... there is no turning back. Life will never taste the same.
Glorieuse-Demise (Yes I do quote myself
I was on fentanyl the night my mom had her heart attack.
Smoking cigarettes with her on the back porch
while she worried that her chest felt funny.
And I was smoking a cigarette when I called my sister outside of the hospital
after a doctor had told me to “wait outside”
after I asked
if my mother was going to survive.
And I texted my dealer the next morning
asking him if he could throw a little extra my way
because my mom had just almost died
and I needed to almost kill myself to feel better.
And my grandma was home the night I let that stranger shoot me up.
And he told me “if you start to feel like you can’t breathe,
just cough.”
And I was on meth the Christmas that I had COVID
the same way I was when I graduated
alone in a room
quarantined
clutching my pipe
and surrounded by the ghosts of my empty accomplishments.
And I was on meth the morning that my grandmother died.
And I was on meth a week later when my dog died, too.
And I didn’t cry that morning, but my dealer did,
when I told him what I had been through.
Today I’ve been clean for 457 days
and I miss getting high.
But I do have to admit
I missed being able to cry.
Dreamed that my parents were going to give a power point presentation about my gender identity at some sort of conference.
In the presentation, my mom was contending that I was actually an addict, addicted to the idea of being transgender, and that if I went into recovery like a drug or alcohol addict, then I wouldn't want to transition anymore.
I edited the power point to include a bullet point stating that "the subject thinks this theory is a load of bullshit."
I guess working in rehab is rubbing off on my unconscious mind.
Teresa Margolles, Vaporization, 2002 — a room filled with disinfected water vapor from cleaning bodies in morgues in Mexico City — part of the exhibition Mexico City: An Exhibition about the Exchange Rates of Bodies and Values, MOMA PS1, Queens
So, I have another addiction. I buy more books than I can read. I JUST BOUGHT ANOTHER ONE! There’s an actual fucking PILE of books in my office that hasn’t gone down! I’m FUCKED you guys, I’M FUCKED.
Blow and hello kitty are my only sources of happiness these days
They say other people's addiction and getting high differ. It seems for us obsesses of fanfiction x reader, this is our addiction and our way of getting high. When you're lucky enough to find a treasure trove of fanfiction, it's like an itch that has finally been scratched. It's a feeling of pure euphoria or a craving that has finally been satisfied.
Have you ever read a really good fic then looked up the author's other works and lo and behold a treasure trove of fics that are exactly your kind of shit? Because god that is what euphoria feels like. I love you random fic writers i unexpectedly find
why am i even bothering with sobriety and cleanness at this point. all i wanna do is be high and forget how fucking miserable im gonna be for the rest of my life. just for a few hours. but i cAnT because tHinGs WoNt EvEr gEt BeTtEr iF yOuRe uSiNg. who the fuck cares if it gets better at this point? it obviously fucking won't. i'm trapped in this fucking disgusting body forever. the least i can do for myself is make myself happy for a little while.
am letting tumblr decide, should i get high on klonopin tonight? 👀👀
I just think its very sweet that mob was the motivation reigen needed to quit smoking <3 so I made a comic about it
nobody warns you this but addiction happens without you noticing and one of the first things that it attacks is your ability to care. if you find yourself using recreational drugs every day, stop and take one day a week sober. if you struggle with this or if you don't see the point of the exercise, you are likely already addicted and you need help.