imagine trying to live without air, now imagine something worse.

it's funny, one moment your on your road to recovery, the next your staring death in the eyes, hoping he wins the stare-down.

have you ever watched blood trickle down your arm? the stinging pain is almost as good as snorting 10 pain killers. i never want to feel again. every time i let myself feel, i end up hurt. fuck, i miss oxys. i miss the mind and body numbing feeling. i miss the rush that lulls you into a sleep. hell, i even miss the pain of withdrawal, creeping up my spine, stealing every ounce of strength and happiness from my soul. i'd do anything for even just one.

it's been a week and a day since he left me. it only took a week for me to fall so low, i think this is what they mean by rock bottom. except, i want to dig six feet deeper. i haven't eaten in days, i don't even know how many. it feels amazing. too bad it's the slowest death i could choose.

but of course, i wanted to feel better. to feel nothing. why did Purdue have to do this to me? to decide that oxys are a problem now, and to replace them with garbage? you couldn't have given me a couple more months? an easy out?

looks like I'm settling for percs again. but snorting them isn't going to do the trick, neither will eating them. god forbid i binge and puke up a perfectly good high. tin foil, a straw, a lighter, and crushed pills. that'll do. it's weird, it's worse than any oxy addiction. once the first hit of chemical smoke hit my lungs, i couldn't stop. it was a constant cycle of crying, drinking, smoking and then snorting sleeping pills to knock me out. i used up 2 lighters, and have burns and blisters all over my thumbs. if i don't have smoke in my lungs, i can't function. i haven't stopped shaking in days. i tell myself it's because i haven't taken a hit in a while, so i do. the shaking doesn't stop.

the thing is, when you've been up high for days, completely out of your mind high, your mind starts to play tricks on you. first, it told me how good the burns feel. how that's all i could feel. then it told me if it was worse, i wouldn't feel a thing. i held them over an open flame. then it told me that wasn't enough. it made me so preoccupied with death for days. i listened to suicide music, fell in love with Kurt Cobain, thought about my empty eyes when i died, and how nobody would care. how i wouldn't hurt anymore.

but how? i didn't know how i could do it, how i could go through with it. so i grabbed the sharpest knife i could find. i just wanted to see how it'd feel. it's the weirdest thing, it hurts so badly that you can't feel it. now i have 8 perfect gashes on my arms.

if i wasn't so fucking high when i did it i would have done it somewhere nobody could see.

i need some help, i have to talk to someone.