A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Monday, November 08, 2004

Pleading Insanity

Memoir - Final Edit Complete

I am writhing on the bed, my knuckles whiter and brighter than the sheets I am swamped in.

The clock hasn't moved for what seems like hours.
I have been locked in this room for three days but it feels more like three years in hell. He is on the other side of the door. My keeper. My enemy is him. The drug is my hero.
What a twisted web we weave..

My matted hair is plastered to my skull, my breath shallow and wanting. The room is dark and deliberately quiet. I can tell by the clock it is midday. That is all I know outside of this agony and frustration. I want to scream some more, but my throat is raw and shredded. I know I am going crazy and so does everyone else. It is to be expected. The valium is doing fucking nothing. I am wired. I am so tired , yet so totally tense and strung out. It is just a matter of waiting it out. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

I never knew my body could feel this broken or so needy. Every inch of my being is screaming with need. My teeth are clenched like my fists that lay beside me, as I reel from the walls with delirium. I am rising damp inside myself. I am hungry to inject. Fear me. Loathe me. I do it to myself and I like it. I am very,very sick right now. Sweat drips down my spine, making the slightest tickle. I trace it with my mind, to stop myself from biting off my fingers.

My big blue eyes roll back in agony and my aching spine throbs and twists in repulsion. I squirm inside my briefs, so over sensitive to the touch, that I am almost turned on. I don't want to eat. I don't want to drink. I don't want you to touch me. I want heroin and only heroin for now. In fact let me convince you.

I know you can hear me .
Yes you.
I know that you love me.
Yes you.
Do you honestly think I am a bad person?

'Open the door please, I need some fresh air. I won't run - I swear. '
"Give it to me, please? "
I bang softly on the walls.
"Comon just this once, let me reduce slowly ? "
I promise I will.
I swear to you I will.
"I know..let me go to rehab - with professionals?"

"Open the door - I have to get a drink"

"Just open the door and let me talk to you. Like an adult. "
"I can't do it in one big bang, it may be dangerous. "
"I think I am dying you know. Do you want to be charged with murder ?"


Silence remains my enemy. But I know you are there. You don't know what is best for me fuckface and you never will. My lips snarl in hate and I wish I never met you. You are pathetic. You are so cruel.
So very cruel aren't you ?

You don't understand. You will never understand.

I just NEED a little bit, for now. This is crazy. I am dying here. You have no fucking idea. You have no fucking right. I am not here for you.
I have changed my mind. We are over. I hate you. Never loved you.

I pick up my last glass of water and smash it against the wall, now I have nothing left to smash. Great. The lock on the door is firm and will not budge. You really don't want to see me like this, just so desperate. I will do anything for a hit. Anything. I disgust myself. I would have someone spit it into my mouth. I would have someone shoot me up with the inside of a ballpoint pen. Heroin. Heroin. Heroin. That is all that is whispering through the gallows of my suicidal mind. Ok. It is time to scream more.
"I know you are behind that fucking door so let me out ! "

"You fucking cunts!” I scream to the people hunched on the other side of the door.

I hurl the bucket at the door, vomit sliding down the wallpaper.
"You fucking cunts ", I sob quietly.

I fucking hate you all. Just give me a fucking shot. I taste blood inside my mouth and I realize I had pummeled my face in the screaming. Blood leaked steadily from my nose. I smear it across my naked chest; I want them to be shocked when they find me dead. Take this edge off. Take this fucking edge off.
I see a shadow under the door and muffled voices. I spring off the bed with deluded hope and start to pound the door, begging and pleading like my life depended on it.

I am trying to get him to listen, pouring out my hopelessness to him through the crack under the door. He is there. I can smell him and my senses are amplified from the sickness. I try to be nice and say soothing things. My heart is hammering through my white and sickly body, bloody scratches all over my face and down my bruised arms. My exposed ribs glow in the soft dull of the curtains and my black eyes lean into the sallow dark.
My breath is rasping like a radio , crackling with the static and tension.

I try another tact. I begin to sob. And I mean sob so loud and so high pitched , that someone surely must come and save me. Surely ?

"Let me out baby... I promise we can get whatever you want. " I coo to him.
My voice barely a blood soaked whisper. I hear the hesitation. He is talking to me through the door. I think he is crying or sniffling from the sickness. He is so close.
"Just a few weeks babe", he is saying. My heart plummets. He really wants to do this. Fuck. I don't know if I can, I mean it is only going to get worse. It's bad now and I think I have not seen the worst then I am mistaken - I was only into the third day - with ten more to go. Pass.

I know he is sick too. I know he wants a shot as much as I do. Junkies can talk any other junkie into having a shot. It is what we live for, it is the switch we all sadly share. I know that I can break him. So this becomes my focus. I speak in ghoulish tones of plans and rationales and weave my promises and I beg him all the while. Hours pass and I never stop pleading. As I vomit crouched back on the door, it swings open and he is there. He is silent and the picture of total emotional upheaval, tears of frustration - fall to the floor. The fresh air floods my nostrils as I lurch out into the daylight, spent but saved. From inside the shower, I am lying flat out on my back as I spew. I hear him come in and he grabs my arm and in a moment I feel like I am dying all over again. The relief feels good only for instant, then I realize that I have failed yet again. Then the high is replaced a fear for the unknown . It is easy to promise more when you are high, and I make a resolved attempt to try and fight the dragon. No matter how disspointed we pretend to be with each other as we both share a cigarette and a choclate milk, we are both secretly glad that it is over, for today. The Ex reaches for my slack hand, limp with new found relief and I only manage the slightest squeeze.
Not only did we have heroin to fear, but our worst enemy had become each other
fire inject



Micha Lindsey said...

That was SO intense! My toes were clenched and my breath was held the whole time I read it...

HeroineGirl said...

Thank you micha !

I thought it was a great post, and judging from the silence , it probably was. I wanted to reader to experience the begging, and the constant emotional tug a war when helping a sick person. It is hard and thankless task in the begginnings, and I wish everyone out there luck - you can do it !

Mumr Calamus said...

Wow. That is all i can say.

awesome picture there. goes very well.

mrs_DiAMond said...

at the beginning sorry for my terrible English-I'm just strange. But H doesn't know any borders.
When I readed it I almost felt Your pain, if I went through cold turkey, although I have allready almost forgotten how you feel while you're sick.I wrote once:HOW MORE ENDLESS CAN BE THE NIGHT...?