2003-10-27 @ 12:25 a.m.

Syringe fantasies bring everything into grotesque detail; everything is an exaggeration.

My hands shake, but it's more as if they're waving at some indistinguishable point in the horizon; waving for surrender. I need an escape from this.

Time ticks on in its sing-song fashion; a rhythm of 'tick-tock' hammered into my head. Tick -I remember a time when this was just a distraction- tock; it was just a game played to pass the time.

You see, I'd pinprick my arms and bathe my veins with this Liquid Hell -it didn't seem so bad at the time. It was Liquid Happiness, then -a transparent happiness. You'd never notice it was there; it was so-fucking transparent.

Needle-point arms; a tapestry of addiction. It doesn't seem so fun anymore. Cold sweat drenches my hair and face and neck and arms, and I'm cold, but I'm hot, and I'm sick, but I'm fine, and I need another vile-ful of this vile illusion.

I'm swimming in Syringe Fantasies.

I'm flooded in it.

I'll drown.

I only thought this felt right. I couldn't have been more wrong.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I had absolutely no internet for a LONG while. Such a long while, in fact, that I lost track of the days. I was just that dependent upon my computer for information and such. I felt empty.

You know you have a serious problem when you can't go a day without getting online.


Listening to: "Vagabonds" by New Model Army

<<before - after>>

The Weather Underground - 2008-11-12
- - 2008-05-06
She knows I can read. - 2008-05-06
William Jacobson - 2008-05-02
Lost Boys - 2008-04-30

everything © Claudia (2003-2008)