The most depressing entry I have ever written.

Yay! Insomnia...PTSD... relapse? Friday, October 02, 20091

So, I just realized that the past forever with an absolutely insane man as a boyfriend+my bonafied pyscho-self+constant meth use= PTSD.2

3

I haven't been able to sleep in weeks without the use of opiates. I kept thinking about the same events over and over and over, all involving myself, my other, and that wonderful loving demon called meth. I couldn't figure out for the life of me why I couldn't get all the terrible memories out of my head- what I did to him, all the abuse he gave to me, what we've done to others, who we were in the beginning and what we became.4

Great... another reason to have nightmares.5

What kills me the most about himself and myself? We were so happy... when we were SOBER! Sober- Key fucking word. He'd smack me across the face after we'd share a bowl and I'd get paranoid, which always pissed him off. Before we started smoking? Nothing. I never taunted him. He never smacked me around. It always started with my paranoia and the fact he didn't want to share; bitch became his favorite pet name for me. Worthless was mine for him.6

But when we were coming down? Yeah, we were crabby. But we weren't angry with each other. We'd sleep in each others arms. Make something to each. I'd help him look for jobs; he always wanted me to summarize books for him because he didn't read much, but he liked to hear/watch me talk about something I loved.7

Then came the crystal. We'd laugh. He'd deal. He always had so much! Baggies full of shards that shone multi-colored and beautiful in the sun... hundred dollar bills... pretty bowls... adventures. We had fun. Honestly, I'd still be with him, high and bruised, if he wasn't in prison right now. Which makes me glad he is. And I am trying my goddamn hardest to not be there when he gets out.8

Am I most haunted by what happened, what became or what could have been?9

We were happy. We were consistently happy... sober.10

I am absolutely disgusted with myself. I thought writing this would help me get some thoughts out, try to put me to sleep at this early hour of 4 am. Know what writing this did? Made me worry that he's sad. Made me want to make him feel better. Made me remember how we both rationalized the abuse. Made me miss him.11

Writing this made me miss him. It made me miss meth. I feel sick to my stomach right now, and I just want to get high.12

I want to see the rainbow glass in the bowl and hear it crackle. I want to laugh because my heartbeat is 130 bpm. I want to be with my old friends again.13

I want to be happy, just meth and I again, and that is why I am crying right now.14

I am disgusting. I am trying so hard to move on. I feel like I really want to, but if I really want to, why am I missing the "life" I used to have.15

I hate crying this early, because no one is awake to comfort me.