I always let myself get played by strung out ass women, you’d think I would learn my lesson, but no I never fucking do. At almost 5am I sit at motel 9 waiting for this woman who I assume isn’t here anymore or isn’t going to answer me either way after she 30 minutes prior asked me to come for her, also I don’t have registration or insurance lol, so it’s like I’m playing a fucked up casino game that’s going to eventually land me in jail. But I do it to myself, every fucking time. I like to see the best in people, but you shouldn’t ever trust someone strung out on black tar heroin, they’ll disappoint you every time, or fuck you over more in my experience.

What kind of person do you believe yourself to be? I’ve always considered myself a decent person, and if I had the ability to help civilizations on mass scale I would, or help our planets pollution problems, or especially, fighting poachers, and generally helping animals or animal activist groups, ya know people who do the work. Besides that I love very deep, the people who I am close with in my life I have the biggest heart for all of them. And I hate losing friends, but it’s inevitable of course, even my pets throughout my life I’ve had a lot of heart for, maybe even more than the people. Love is very confusing construct to me, but who am I to question the universe and her mystery’s.

I’ve always felt like I’m out of place in this world, I’ve never felt like I belong in any particular setting, even with my blood family I’m more of the outcast, the black sheep, all because of my parents reputation, I’ve never held anyone’s trust because my mom is who she is, and the things she done, all the lies. I’m generally very honest as long as you don’t try to restrict me. Ya know don’t try to control me, because that’s going to make me have to lie to you because I can’t do as I please freely, if I take care of myself what’s it matter what I do with my free time. Why badger me and try to control me when all you get is failure and resistance. It’s a losing game for you, and I’m just going to end up doing what i set out to do, where you could’ve known exactly where I would be because I have no reasons to hide anything, people have always confused me with their ways.

Both of my parents were addicted to drugs, my dad told me he tried crystal meth at 19 and used it off and on for 24 years if I’m not mistaken. My mom, I’ve never really gotten a clear answer from, she lies a lot. But i know she is also up there in the 20 year(s) marker, she had told me she really quit when I was about 15 or 16, but then i wanna say a year or 2 ago, at my brothers wedding, she showed up skinny, after being rather large for a good while. Well because of my parents drug use, growing up I always said I’d never use drugs and I hated them and I hated anyone who used drugs, a very one sided opinion, but I went through a lot of fucked up shit because of my parents, shit I’m not going to write on this blog. Another key point in this little story, my moms father murdered her mother when my mom was 5 years old, they were both herion addicts, well my moms father went to prison for 22 years, and his dad my grandpa raised my mom, my grandpa was a very old fashion type of man who didn’t really know how to approach the situation, he did his best and I am grateful for him, he was born in the middle of the Great Depression in Mississippi in 1925. Served in WW2, I do not know what he did, supposedly he never spoke of it. Let’s get back on track though, so 22 years later, give or take I have no clue, my moms father was released from prison, and he wasn’t some changed man, he was still the schizo ass hole that murdered my grandmother when my mom was a child, well yad yad, one day he starts beating my grandpas ass, trying to kill him, because ya know that’s what he did he enjoyed murdering people, well grandpa locks himself in his room and pulls out one of his guns and tells him, if you come inside this room, I am going to kill you. Well ass hole breaks down the door, so grandpa shots him in the knee, and he tells him again, stop or I am going to kill you, and he didn’t stop, grandpa shot him in the heart. Something that night wanted him dead. The most vivid memory I have my moms father, is him in his coffin, my mom has taken me to goodwill or some shit and got me some toy, well we pull up to a building I’ve never seen and she asks me, do you want to come in, she didn’t tell me why, or anything, i said no, well I’m in the car and i start thinking what’s taking so long, so I go inside, and I find my mom in a private room she’s crying, and I didn’t understand why until I walked up to the box she was standing over, and I saw him, all dressed up, as a 7 year old child, it scared me, more than a dead man should’ve, he did not look at peace, he did not look like he was resting with his ancestors. He looked evil…

When I was a youngster I was very against drugs, as I got older my opinions on drugs slowly changed, at 13 I become a stoner, 15 I start smoking cigarettes, from 16 to 18 I did a wide assortment of pills, 18 I tried cocaine, 19 or 20 I did a lot of mushrooms and I tried acid, I just recently did acid for the second time at 23, that was wonderful and refreshing, but at 21 I tried crystal meth for the first time, I loved it but it took me a good 6 -9 months I had control over it, I would only do it every so often, i really wouldn’t spend money on it, October the year I turned 22 I went to a concert with 3 friends, 2 of which were my roommates, and this concert was the last time we were all going to be able to do something like that, well we stayed with a member of my family, who’s been a meth addict since she was probably about my age at the time or younger, well I’d told her that I had tried it and she had pushed and pushed me to do a hot rail with her, and I knew in my head that if I used that night before I went to the concert, that I would get strung out, well I caved and did the hot rail, we go to the concert, missed out on our vip tickets where we could meet the artist we had went to see, well we were all high and it didn’t matter that concert was epic, it was one of the best days of my life, well it ends we go home, and i had stayed up 5 days straight, and than I was done, crystal had taken my soul and kept it for herself, well at 23 I try black tar heroin, and also at 23 I’ve slammed 4 or 5 times and I love it, mind you I swore to myself that I would never put a needle in my arm for drugs. But I have failed myself, in every aspect.

I hope reading about my experience in life may help someone, or someone with more experience may offer me some wisdom.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

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