90 posts tagged “drugs”

I woke up and made waffles for my family this morning. I don’t know whether TV has gotten dumber or I have higher standards about the ideas I want projected into my brain, but it’s annoying. It’s kind of strange, being in a house full of males as opposed to my all-female house in Seattle. Not that I interact with anyone at my house in Seattle. I didn’t talk to my family much either, not until later in the evening after I got a 30 mg pill of Adderall from D (he finally came through).

My older half-brother smokes weed (he calls it medical marijuana). It’s legal stuff, he gets it from the dispensary in Seattle. He went out for a walk today and left his weed outside somewhere in the hills behind my house. He couldn’t find the bag after dark. He searched and searched but came home empty-handed and pissed off. It was okay though because my little brother is here too and he always has weed. He says that a bunch of people here owe him money/weed, so he is covered for the weekend.

Everything I write right now is bothering me. I can’t seem to express things correctly. Everything seems off. Stupid pills, I haven’t taken uppers in a while. I talked to my little brother for a while at night, well, I mostly talked at him, lecturing about this and that. I like how my little brother listens to me though, he listens patiently and I think he understands what I am trying to say, even though most of my subjects are foreign to him. I suddenly feel a little nauseous.

Another thing I like about my little brother: I recently read to him for the first time some of my writing, some stories and poems. He was able to appreciate them. He told me that I’m good with words, and I was so flattered, so pleased to hear it from him. It’s encouraging. My brothers are pretty critical and if they don’t like something, they don’t hesitate in saying so. But about my writing, my little brother said nothing ill!

He is also applying to transfer to my university, so we have been discussing education. I have been thinking/talking about graduate school a lot lately. I can’t help but think about it, even though I still have so much work to do at UW. I guess it’s just that I can see the goal and conclusion of my current situation and I am trying to imagine the next phase. I can’t really do much about it right now, but it’s in the back of my mind these days.

When I told my little brother that I am thinking of going to graduate school for phd studies, and when I told him that I might end up being a professor, he said that I should do it. He thinks I am smart enough! I think I am pretty lazy so I don’t know, that’s a lot of work, a lot of reading and writing. And I don’t know if this idea is just a phase. I have changed my mind about future plans many times in the past few years. I have wanted to go to law school, I have wanted to work for the government, I have wanted to work for an international organization, I have wanted to be a journalist, and I have wanted to be a wife too. Who knows, maybe next year I will want to be something else? I am pretty sure that I will go to graduate school though, and if I am going to go to graduate school, I need to choose a program. I dunno.

Sorry this is so boring. I am even boring myself. I don’t know what to do. I can’t work on my research paper because I feel unwell. It’s almost 5 in the morning now. This bedroom is so small. I thought it was pretty big when I moved into it after my mom died. It felt so big compared to the closet I had been living in for most my teenage years. I didn’t really care about the size though. I just needed to move all of my mom’s clothes out, to make her disappear. I packed everything up so quickly, in a few hours erased most signs of her in the house, and replaced her with my own decorations. I miss her.

It’s been nearly three years now. Feels like an eternity, at the same time, feels like a fresh wound still. So much has happened since then. I’ve lived a thousand lives. I want to throw up but I know my stomach is empty. I feel really sick right now. I drank a little bit of water but I can’t force myself to do it again.

I feel like this house is frozen in time. There are thick layers of dust on all my old things, perfume bottles, mirrors, books. My decorations are still on the wall. Nothing has been disturbed. It makes me feel a bit dead, as if I am the ghost of my past self, visiting my old bedroom.

I don’t think I have ever worried about the future as much as I do these days. I don't know what I will end up doing. Time passes quickly and I am not getting any younger. How much longer will I pass days writing nonsense, speaking to strangers, and feeling like I lack something? For how much longer will I feel like a ghost in a shell? Will I ever escape this mental hell? I’m in pain.

I’m in pain. If it’s not my mind it’s my body. Sometimes when I lay in bed alone, I hug myself, I feel my ribcage, I feel myself, feel my naked skin, try to make it better, feel this person, this body. With my arms wrapped around my chest, I can feel the bones and feel how tired they are, tired from the weight of my burdens, the weight of all this baggage, tired from mental descent and maltreatment. I want to be strong.

I’m weak.

Did I ever mention how much I hate my hometown? Well, I do, very much. I've been high/stoned all day. My younger brother is out somewhere with his dealer friends, my father and I exchanged the few usual sentences earlier this evening (where have I been and, again for the hundredth time, what am I studying anyway?). My older brother is playing a video game, and I am sitting in my freezing room (used to be my mother's room) crushing up pills and reading letters to imaginary friends, diaries, and poetry from childhood (some stuff is more than ten years old!). Excuse me as I escape reality.

I went to sleep around 4 am today. I woke up before noon and met Ryu downtown at 2:10 pm. I had no appetite. He wanted to go to the Seattle Art Museum, I have never been there before, so we went. It was better than I expected and they have a cool Michelangelo exhibit right now, lucky! I really liked the single Monet piece they had...

We spent a couple hours there then had coffee near Pike Place Market. Ryu was especially quiet. I'm not complaining, I like it, and I know it has nothing to do with me.

We went back to my house, my room was sort of a mess. I told him that I didn't sleep right the night before and that I got high off pills, something I don't usually do. He thought it was interesting and started asking me about it. I asked him if he wanted to try, and he said no. I told him I wanted to get high and he said that I should if I wanted, so I did, I crushed the pills and railed them right in front of him.

It was so nice to have him there as the pills began to take effect.
I am so warm still, even though he is gone.
I wish he could stay.

Back from the underworld.

Ryu came over around 19:00 and I did his makeup, painting a whiter face and eyeliner under his eyes to make him look like L. The makeup helped make a really good effect! I wore a black corset top that restricted my breathing and smushed my boobs together in a weird shape. I thought about being a school girl, but I wanted to be a little bit scarier, so I went with more black and chains. Ryu had no complaints. We took a few shots of vodka at a friend's house in the neighborhood with Kensuke and Tetsuya, then went to the party later at night.

I don't really like going to house parties (well, the few I have been to have been uninteresting) but I guess it has more to do with the people there rather than the setting and beer. Last night I went to the Halloween party of a bunch of (mostly Japanese and other Asian) International students. There were a lot of people I knew and many I didn't. When we showed up, the beer was gone so we were left with bottles of tequila, vodka, rum, and a bunch of mixers.

Of course we took more shots like the smart, efficient people we are... I lost count, all I know today is that it was too many.

The party was cool though, the house was packed, everyone was dressed up and beautiful. Lots of cute guys and girls. I didn't bring my camera, but Ryu did. I tried to play cupid for my friends Kensuke and Kei... they are perfect for each other I think, both 19 and petite and adorable. I pushed them into a bathroom together and I don't know how it went. At one point, people were cheering for Ryu and me to kiss and we did. All I remember is a million camera flashes going off (freakin' Japanese, always taking pictures) and then shouts of mo ikkai, チューして！kiss again~!!. Like I said, I haven't seen any of these pictures, I didn't have my camera!

I'm glad Ryu decided to leave when he did, it's always better to leave early. He told me let's go and his reason was simple, if we stay longer, we will drink more. So logical! Why don't I ever think of that? On the way out, in the front yard, I saw a group of guys smoking a bowl, and I took a couple hits, and even got a green hit! It was really good stuff, I forgot what he called it. The guy actually knows my friend Heather so I will keep in touch with him somehow. I walked home with Ryu, stoned and drunk and generally happy but tired of my high heels.

We saw lots of drunk students in costume on the way home. Ryu was commenting on how great Halloween was, he was surprised, he was taught it was a children's holiday. There was a cop standing at a frat house on my block who surprised me and made me paranoid, and I remembered that I was breaking the law. It is so ridiculous that I can't drink legally.

Anyway, I went home and Ryu kinda took care of me, I am grateful. He took all my clothes off very slowly and carefully, while I suffered in my super high, intoxicated body, he removed all my accessories, my socks, and folded everything away. I did nothing, just lay in bed. It felt nice.

Though it has been on the back-burner of my consciousness, I had not heard from the super competitive and bureaucratic International studies department about my application to the major. I applied a couple weeks ago, and I was kind of confident about getting in, but nothing was official.

I am pleased to report that I just received my acceptance email. Woo! Both of my majors are officially declared! yatta!

Date with Ryu tonight, he is so cute sometimes. More about him later, I have a comp lit midterm due in 55 minutes! I've titled it, "Sex, an Art of Tensions?" and it's an analysis of a sex scene in a comic we read for class.

---

So I'm at home, finished with the week. What do I do? It's always a rush to to finish. And afterward I still feel at edge. I still have a bunch of wine at my house from last weekend.... *pours a glass*

Ryu says he wants to meet later, around 7 for dinner. It's weird. I think going out in public with him will be strange. I will have a few drinks before I see him, otherwise, I won't be able to relax.

I had sex with him a few times, and I was totally sober. I'm preoccupied with the idea of it lately. Starting to feel perverse. No, I am not saying he was amazing, I'm saying that I am probably thinking about it a lot more than is normal. It is strange to be doing this with a student. He thinks I'm his girlfriend. No one has ever really called me that. Even Arihito last month in Tokyo, we saw each other pretty regularly but we were just friends. Even Yusuke... called me every day, but I was so busy and ignored him so much that I don't think even he could consider me a girlfriend.

Ryu on the other hand, is informing all his buddies back home that he has "made an American girlfriend."

Anyway, sex. As much as I try to convince myself otherwise, it is still not as good as a dose of really good H. Or alternatively (if you aren't into the needles and illegal stuff) a bunch of oxies. Seems like nothing will ever be.

I like how the effect of drugs lingers, I like how it makes me feel, what it does to my mind and how it changes the world. I need nothing else when I'm high, just me, satisfied with myself for a while. Sex doesn't do that. I really gave it a chance! I "liberated" myself from a previously very negative attitude toward sex. No I don't think it's dirty, I think it can be very sensual and it makes you feel good for a little while, even a day or two after, you might be thinking about that person. But to be honest, it's not really satisfying on the same level that I feel after writing something I imagined during a high, or the feeling of my body when I take opiates.

I don't want to say that I've tried everything, but I feel like I have, different types of people, different scenes, I don't even want to describe all the different situations, but it's still not as good as sticking a pen into my hand til I bleed or getting high out my mind. Nothing compares to the calm that I feel the day after I cut myself or after getting high and writing all night.

Today is auspicious. It's very windy, and somehow warm.

October 21, 2009

I asked him if I could change my shirt, I didn’t want to wear the buttoned one any longer.

Yes, but do it here.

I was sitting in the dark, in the living room. He had a few lamps on, a tall white candle inside of thick glass was lit, and the curtains closed over the windows, tied together to prevent any vision in or out of the house. I always felt like we were at some sort of ceremony. Wine glasses waited to be filled on the coffee table, and he was looking for the bottle opener.  I took my softer shirt out of my bag and started to unbutton. At the cue of my silence he entered the room with the bottle in hand, Wait, I want to watch you.

I nearly changed my mind, but tried to ignore him. I pulled at the end of the sleeves and took the shirt off slowly, being watched, one sleeve at a time, off my shoulders, and folded it away. I slipped my arms into the second shirt and bent my head down, eyes closed, to put it through the neck opening, struggling with nervousness. He sat next to me and set the bottle down on the table.

I sat back and he pulled me closer, his hands around my waist. I resisted and when I tried to pull his hands off I felt them tighten around me, holding me in place. I stopped and glanced back at him, Let me pour the wine. He let go, with a look of reluctance on his face.

I poured his glass first then mine. I lifted my glass up and said cheers, but he just sat watching me. He didn’t lift his glass up but replied, Cheers, as if granting me permission. I took the first sip alone, eagerly.

“Still so dependent, aren’t you?” He said, “I can furnish your pathetic needs better if you ask.”

“I’m not desperate, I just haven’t had a drink in a long time. Can’t you just enjoy it with me without passing judgment and making commentary?”

“If I don’t, who will?”

I took another drink and refilled the glass. “It’s unnecessary. I am accountable for myself.”

“Are you saying you can get high on your own, or something? You have your means?” He laughed.

“No I don’t need to get high.”

“Good for you! I’m glad. Let me see your arms.”

I was holding the glass with my right hand and he reached for my left wrist. “Fuck off already. Let me be.” I brushed him away.

He stopped trying. He stood up and hit the side of my head with his palm as he walked to another room, leaving me alone with the wine. Don’t use that word around me. I filled my glass again, silent, suppressing the anger.

He came back with a hand mirror and produced a bag of cocaine from his pocket. He took a sip of his wine and opened the small bag, then looked toward me.

“Don’t act so disinterested.”

He made four lines with the powder then offered it to me, Ladies first.

I set my glass down and took the first line slowly, then half of the second. I handed him the mirror and took another drink of wine. He finished the rest of the powder himself then went to get a glass of water. When he returned he stood watching me.

“Haven’t you had enough to drink?”

“Can I finish the bottle?”

“You can have two more sips.”

I drank what remained in two big gulps.

“You think you’re smart don’t you? Clever girl, aren’t you?”

He approached me, Not such a smart move, he said. He pulled my hair, pulled it to the top of my head. Now, let me see your beautiful face. He continued to pull it and I tried to stay in place, I crushed my eyelids together. Tie it up, high up. In the middle of tying a pony-tail, he pushed me down into the couch, and then pulled my hair again, tying it very tight, my neck cracked.

He held my wrists together; I couldn’t move them at all. His other hand was in my shirt, pressing down on my stomach. He asked me how old I was.

I struggled. Twenty.

He was silent for a few seconds. I asked, how old are you?

I looked at his eyes, he was glaring, waiting, then I understood.

Fourteen, I whispered. I’m fourteen years old.

He stopped pressing, That’s what I thought. Don’t, don’t lie to me again.

He pulled my shirt off then held my wrists together again. He saw some scabs on my outer arms and stared disapprovingly. Is this what you were hiding? He kissed the cuts. You shouldn’t resist when I ask to see them, I’m trying to help you. Secrets aren’t healthy. We can’t keep secrets from each other, okay?

I nodded. He released my arms and kissed me. I kept my mouth closed. He insisted. He kissed my neck then started to bite me, it began to be painful, and the more I pulled away, the more it hurt. I relaxed. He stopped. He made me stand up.

I pressed the center of my body against his, and spoke into his neck, Please, I can’t stand it anymore, I want you, please. He humored me for a moment, laughed, breathed into my neck, then pushed me away, I fell to my knees.

I know what you are trying to do. You think I am some idiot you can manipulate? Do you see the situation you’re in? Don’t you understand that I can have you whenever I want?

October 24, 2009 19:07

Dialogue

My stomach is gasping for air, I feel the pills fry my insides, sizzling. My head is a bowling ball and I can hardly lift it up. My neck is ancient, cracking with the slightest movement. Shivers are constantly shaking my spine and I feel amazing. Methamphetamine rushes through my every vein.

I touch myself all over; my hair is silky smooth, my eyes wide open, I’m only aware of myself, my body, lost in ecstasy. Hot blood, my heart races. I’m freezing, and my face is...

Warm to the touch, oh god my skin is so soft, I said, like silk. And I need only me, only me, this body, only.

It’s the worst and best sensation. It’s like death, cold and void, I’m suddenly a skeleton. I press and feel every bone, every one. Snap me in half! Snap me out of it!

Oh but it’s wonderful isn’t it, I never want this to end, I’m shaking, I’m smiling.

I can hear my body beg, please, please, Stop!

But, Fuck……..

YOOOOOOOOUUUUU, release me!

Me, Me, Me.

It’s what

I

Want

to

do.

I want to do, I want to. Why can’t you let me do what I WANT?

Don’t you understand?

I feel so good. What’s the matter? You cannot understand this broken SOUL. You can’t let go. You stay closed, stay close, suffocating me. I hate you, I hate you. YES I AM TALKING TO YOU. There is NO COAL LEFT TO SELL. YOU COULD BE LEAVING THE REST.

Now, relax. We can be civil. RELAX. SHUT UP. Okay, I’m fine. Alright, we’re good, calm… down, down. I love you, you feel so good. Stay with me.

I will always be inside of you. I always want to be inside of you.

Did you lead me astray? You started a fire that still burns. Lay back, close your eyes, I peeked and saw only you. I don’t remember your face, finally becoming conscious of myself, in your embrace.

Your hands on my skin, I didn’t say a word, I stared silently, like a helpless baby bird. Mouth wide open, feed me your worms! Seal each lesson, no questions, I would lie here forever, my god! She was not unlike a constellation of stars, unreachable, twinkling so far, catching my eyes, I was hypnotised.

You created me, my name, I learned, you destroyed my identity, soaked in flames!

And where are you now?

What have we become?

What have I done?

Don’t forget, that snowy night. You walked into the house with your shoes on, open-toed and pointy heels. I lay in your room, which was loaded with your clothes, lining the walls, my soft nest. I lay in a daze, you entered without warning. Shocked, it was too late now. You scolded me, pulled my hair until I was sure it was going to break. You made me stand up, I went to vomit. You slapped me until tears were in my eyes. Then you surprised me with your intimacy.

Tracy!

You read in circles and walked in squares!

That dark winter night. We left any and all form.

At least you didn’t finish it, you said and joined me. The house was freezing after our shower, both goose-bumped, we lost all our power in smoke, our blood slowed. Weak, we lay together in the dark, your cold fingertips were ice to my heart, shocking, touching every warm part of my body.

02:01 October 12, 2009

I have been sleeping so much lately. It probably has to do with not having a computer and not even trying to get over my jet-lag.

I am extremely embarrassed that a guy I met at a rave last year is in my Arabic class. Well, I was rolling super hard that night and made out with him; he ended up driving me home, as I was high out of my mind. Nothing huge, but it bothers me because I am such a different character in class, he has seen too much of me.

He is a year younger than me, maybe 19 now, an honors student. I was staring at him last Friday in class thinking he was pretty good looking without realising who he was. Yesterday he came to class late and sat right beside me. I tried to read his name on his paper, and when I made it out, I immediately recognised him.

I asked him, Do I know you? And he said, Yeah, we were in a Comm class together two years ago and we met randomly at Bubble Bobble- I cut him off. Oh yes, I am so embarrassed! I remember you. Apparently he remembers me too.

He said he switched out of Chinese for Arabic, he needs to take a language class because he is considering Linguistics as a major. I told him that was wonderful, linguistics is great. I am going to have to see him every morning now.

I spoke to my younger brother for a while yesterday. I am trying to get him to quit smoking weed because it is making him depressed. I don't think I am very convincing though. Smoking weed leads to a dead-end, after a while, it isn't fun, and unless you start a whole new drug habit (another dead-end, cycle of addiction), then you are going to sink into an unhappy place. With winter approaching, I would hate to see my brother fall deep.

On the first day of school I became familiar with the Revolutionary Communist Party, I saw a friend from an old SIS course (school of international studies) having a discussion with the representatives advertising at our university. I went to greet my friend unaware of his current disposition.

I am left-leaning and interested in socialist economics (not so much communism, as a method of governing people, it is basically fascism to me, not based on individual freedom) so I humored them for a bit. I gave them my name and email address. That night I received a message from one of the girls asking me to join them for a meeting the next day, to discuss "communism, revolution, and changing the world." I was down.

After class on Thursday I ran into my microeconomics teacher from last spring quarter (a graduate school student). I used to always accuse him of being a dirty capitalist and we would argue all the time. I told him I was heading to a communist party meeting that afternoon and he said he wanted to come along. I said, Oh sure, I'd like to see you there, we are going to discuss economics.

We were the only two people in attendance. We watched a video (not very well-made) and then started a discussion, about capitalism, communism, revolution. A lot of questions were posed, I mostly listened and played both sides. It was raining when my teacher and I left the building. He told me he wanted to show me one thing before I went home. We went to Suzallo library and searched for a book. The Road to Serfdom. He wants me to read it, in order for me to understand the realities of communism and socialism.

So I am not ready to sign onto the communist party, but I am actively researching right now. Friday night, my younger brother came to visit me from his college town, Bellingham, a couple hours north of Seattle. He is always taller when I see him! He is driving a new car and looks great.

We drove into downtown Seattle and met up with my half-brother (who apparently has the "chronic hook-up"). Right around the corner from my half-brother's apartment was the Revolution bookstore! I had heard from the communist girl that there was going to be an open mic down there later this month, I was interested! I felt so lucky to be there. I signed up to read some poetry.

My brothers and I smoked some weed, legal stuff from the dispensary. We looked at old photographs of our father and the past, photos I have never seen before. Photos of my mother. It was a nice trip back in time. Before it got too late, my brother and I drove back north to his apartment. It is nice here!

I am still in Bellingham, spending time with my brother is such a pleasure! I am so proud of him and I love to talk with him... Oh he just woke up!