from days of old. (yet still relevant, sadly.)

here it goes… I am taking my writing into the 21st century, and letting the shit fly onto the SCREEN for a change, rather than off the paper as it were. I'll let you know later how it works out, but for right now, I can't lie- I do enjoy the font/color changing options available to me here without much more effort than a click and a swoop of the mouse… …and SPEAKING OF mice… I seem to be in the company of several others tonight in my own room, and they haven't even had the chance to introduce themselves yet. Rude guests, those fucking mice are… eat all the food, poop on the floor, and run away when I finally catch a glimpse of one of them behind my dresser. Actually, sounds like friends and boyfriends I've had over the years- if they could have fit behind my dresser. But no matter, the mice are probably able to pay more rent than me at this point so I have a moral dilemma keeping me from chasing them out and/or just blatantly killing them for lack of patience. Not to mention, I could use a friend… how sad that last sentence is, I won't even acknowledge. But true, true it is nonetheless… I digress… Tonight what's on my mind is the fact that, lately, not much has been on my mind at all. Which is interesting, considering I have plenty of time to do nothing but think. What, with all the time I used to spend hanging out with useless/idiot boy-men, or drinking/drugging with my friends out on the town… now just leaves me with all that extra time to mull it all over in this tired old head of mine. But still, I don't. I would rather do anything BUT think about shit that matters… Denial. It's what I do… it's what I liiiive for. It's who I am. HA! (OK, that was ripped directly from Ursula herself. Tell me you are familiar with the sea witch! No, you're not? Well go rent the little mermaid and get with the fucking program, there will be more references to the best movie of all time before this bitch is done yammerin.) Moving right along, I am in denial currently of several not-so-minor issues threatening my entire life at the moment. Namely, the fact that my rent for this month, last month, and next month are nowhere to be found, and time is flat-out UP for me to fuck around with any more excuses for when its going to find its way into my roommate's pockets. And I literally just let out a scream because the second I put my feet on the floor I almost had a direct moment of contact with one of my furry little houseguests… never a dull moment. Also up for denial tonight, is the fact that I continue to have an outstanding debt with one of my 'best friends' who has been 'kind' enough to 'front' me the (glorious) Adderall I am so in love with since I have scammed every doctor in Manhattan and beyond by now, and health insurance is just a fleeting, sweet memory by now in my life. (for another day, that rant is.) But I wonder… what kind of a friend would so patently enable my (very vocally acknowledged and analyzed) fanatical addiction to amphetamines as the always-lovely Beth has managed to accomplish in recent months??? Forget the fact that she, herself, has first- hand knowledge of how deeply and profoundly addicted I once found myself…. She also knows full-well that I can't be trusted to use my better judgment whenever this particular temptation is on the line. After living with me at my worst, worst, worst of all LOWS… and watching the obscene and all-consuming highs I would spend my days chasing down on the drug, Beth has the type of first-hand knowledge of me as an addict that is rarely seen in stories like mine. She had the honor of seeing me at my 'best' (in my own mind, after those first few pills of a new Rx hit my bloodstream), and unquestionably at my worst…when, pill bottle long-empty, I would find myself mascara-streaked and jaundiced 4 days later after weakly crawling out of bed to our shared bathroom for a lengthy and painful pee session, which always surprised me in how chemical and abnormal my urine would smell post-binge… But yeah, how many people such as myself get hauled into rehab by people MUCH less 'in the know' than Beth is in my life??? Plenty, I believe. Yet, for the not-at-all-bargain price of $10 per 20 mg. pill, she is happy to perpetuate my worst nightmare/singular obsession/worst-kept secret love affair with my drug of choice and the sole reminder I can still taste of days long gone where this curse was nothing but a blessing… my Adderall, my life-blood, and my ruler all wrapped up in one bitter little pill which I am now forced to wrangle from hands which belong to the body of someone who used to hold me still until the shaking had stopped. But I digress...