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It’s better to remember things fondly with others. I mean, we could all be bitter and hateful about everything, but meeting people and sharing with them, however brief is one of the highlights of life.

There’s a saying, that through others are we only able to see ourselves. The older I get, the more I believe in that. We can only glimpse parts of ourselves that we have discarded or lost, and there’s something beautiful in that connection of souls, no matter how brief or unsustainable.

Okay, on the internal instability front: I think I’m returning to a better stability, really was thwacked out for a while there… A weird thing about me  is that I know I have my own issues, but I seem to take on things from those that I’m around…I delved into some deep level paranoia for the last few weeks, to a level that’s hard to open about…felt such a deep connection between unrelated conversations, my job is captioning phone calls…had one call that was about a woman with a life quite similar to mine and felt as if it was planted (our company does test calls, intermittently, to test caption quality) and thought that it was a tip-off that I was going to get fired or that my sup was fucking with me….this was preceded by two joints, after not really smoking much for a long time…obviously paranoia with marijuana is a thing, but I was coping with some real-weird high level shit and generally sober…

I don’t know, this all seems to be abating, somewhat, but I can’t delineate the specific cause. Like there’s three or four things, really, maybe it’s a combination of things.

Dunno, think the influence of whom I’m around really affects me. I thought my newfound stability was a by-product of 4-aco-dmt, but I wonder if it wasn’t tripping with my friend, Julie, who is the most stable relationship and person that’s been in my life. It’s hard to summarize what went on with this drug, but the emotional core of it was feeling a maternal love, in a deep way that I honestly have not experienced in my um, natural life. I suppose it’s a bit weird that my friend goes into “mama bear” mode with me, but we’re all mad here.

Another thing with that that I am increasingly aware of is how much life crap I processed…I don’t think I was emotionally registering what I was going through for quite some time, tbh I had a deep head-fuck of a relationship, 2 short relationships with men who overdosed,  one right after the relationship ended, and one who died in Jan of 2017, I think…They weren’t long, or serious, but there was something quite intense about them, as these things go…But I used to open in a way much faster than I do now, there was a deep sense of sincerity to it, but I had more issues with lying then, so it’s all been a bit weird…generally honest now, but overly guarded and a bit shut down.

The 4-aco-dmt it forced me to grow up a bit, but I formed a pretty deep emotional callus toward forming bonds with other people. That’s sort of an inversion of how this drug is supposed to work, but there we are with that one.

Dxm has been a recent thing, it’s interesting to note that my trips are funnier and lighter on this drug, had some kind of complex weirdness with identifying with nosferatu (“lady nosferatu” would be a great stage-name, I think), but the amount of shit I don’t remember with this is astonishing. Feel like my drug experiences are much different than they used to be, but I’m also a different person…idk, don’t like how changeable I am at times.

Hung out with my  friend, and introduced her to dxm. It was her first time tripping on anything. She threw up, so she didn’t quite make it to tripping, but definitely felt the emotional affects and enjoyed the experience. Super got into music, we really connected on a deeper level than we have in a while.

She’s really into girly type shit, so I swear to god she ended up wanting to paint my toenails, which honestly? Given the lack of coordination, with this drug is not too bad, but it’s more like the tips of my toes are painted rather than the nails. Idk, like it. Was going to spend the night, but had to work today and had some kind of protracted migraine so left early to go hide in my apartment, ended up waking up several times during the night and was amazed that I was okay for work today.

I prefer using alone at this point, or with another girl. Wayyyy different vibe, I think. Different point in my life, though.

Things just shift so much, and my memories just seem so disconnected and weird. Like, there’s the issue with blackout drinking, but I analyze shit so deeply in my head so much that I just don’t really remember the organic memory, it feels like, so much as the complicated analysis that’s in my head….and then the things I value change so much over time that I end up distrusting what I experienced/myself…I swear I could see an elephant fly downtown and ignore ’cause I just thought I was losing my shit, tbh….

Also my sense of time was fucked for a while there, thanks to an elaborate system of alarms I managed to make it…there were a few days that felt like six minutes, would clock out of work feeling like i’d been there for two hours…

I think I’m going to pursue hallucinogens again, on a controlled basis. Unsure. In an interesting turn of events, one of my old sponsors just added me on facebook….worked five of the steps with her.  Seems to be a productive venture, at the moment at least, but I need to watch my stability…just seems to slip a lot faster and harder than it used to. These little mood cycles have been absolute hell for me to deal with, glad I’m alone in my own little kingdom and able to like, just decompress with the shit that’s going through my head.

I appreciate the quiet little hermit I’ve turned into, attempting to put more Buddhist practices regarded lack of harm and peace keeping into my life seems to be productive, and makes me feel like less of a turd.

Hah, it’s all about assuaging that eternal feeling of emptiness and guilt, isn’t it?

Otherwise, starting a book called “Your Best Year Ever”, not super far, have some quizzes to get into.

Oh! Mostly over my cold/flu, at this point. Narrowly escaped dragging my ass into a free clinic, my lungs are weak as hell, so the potential of pneumonia means missed work…but I might be able to take the bike out tomorrow, or at least get back in the pool, which is exciting as hell.

Gotta push myself back into drawing, like, yanno, maybe become a real human being beyond being “really likes work” girl.




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So I’ve come to the realization that I’m close to 100 lbs of weight loss since my move to milwaukee last summer. Holy hell. 29473218_107460933432151_4127178437167153152_n.jpg

So I’m close to like, my normal-ish weight range, which is awesome, but it’s hard to deal with how much of a struggle my body has been for me in my life. There’s a lot of relevant terms and behaviors, but I have alternated between under-eating, bulimia and over-eating. Tie that in with long-term alcoholism, random drugs, and goddamn meth and basically I’ve been in a hell.

My body and mind are showing heavy signs of wear, even after 2 (or 3? I think it was  years off of methamphetamine, spent mostly sober, sober for a year, then 4-aco-dmt, and sporadic weed, recent dxm weirdness, and a little heroin since), and it’s amazing to me how quickly my mood and mental states are affected by this.

I guess I need to learn to rock the “borderline” title…

If my life is a testament to anything, at this point, it’s the body’s dumb, blind ability to continue on, and how much circumstances and choices play a part in a person’s life. I graduated on the honor roll, and had so much going for me at different points in my life, but had a lot of hidden pain that wasn’t dealt with, bam, now we’re in a low-skill (but fascinating) job and and interestingly located apartment.

I mean, my best friend is impressed by me at least, and when I do open to people, they’re impressed that I survived…maybe I should give myself more credit for this shit, but there’s something depressing having lost your ability to open, trust, and hope for things with people, and even yourself. Like I don’t fucking trust myself anymore, but I should, a bit more…

I used to have such faith in love to conquer and remove obstacles, now my innate instinct to to protect myself and hide.

Which has almost been the key activity in my life since last fall. It was quite productive at first in terms of reading, and I’m making progress with daily habits, healthy vegetarian food, exercise, etc, but I have such an issue with over-intense relationships and to be honest, I feel like I lost myself years ago, and trying to find or remake a self is beyond my capabilities. As if I’m just this shell of a human, unable to really share in essential human characteristics. There’s a lot more I could be doing to make myself happier, and progress but I’ve fallen into such a depression that the best I can do right now is work and exercise, maybe read a bit. Still need to stay away from men, though, that shit never turns out right, and I just…like, I can’t even deal with the concept of being in a relationship right now, tbh.

I’m not sure if recovery is the path I want to walk again, perhaps I should drag myself back into therapy. Just so sick of myself, and existing almost. Not suicidal, but just….I don’t want anyone too close to shatter this veneer of contentment I have. I have had so much struggle in life, and so little reward, but I’m closing in on something good, right? right?

Oh well, back to reading. Got 26 books in this year and feel like i’m fucking slacking.

Christ. Way too in my head.

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Everything is old and worn,

No joy left in this world.

Deliniating potential from reality,

A slow grey slog toward the inevitable.

The price of experience builds daily, a crushing weight on the chest, weighed down by years of missteps.

The darkened eyes of a lost child, crouching in shadows – seeking an absence of pain, with no hope of anything more.


a thing.

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(have not written poetry in a while, not really sure what to label this)

Words are hard when the self is buried under years of dissatisfaction and disconnect. Many voices spring from one mouth, uncertainty pervades even the smallest events. Who am I? Who are you?

Is this real? What is?

A life focused on not causing harm, but due to the nature of existence so many hurts are caused. The safety and calm and solitude, only to be penetrated to reveal wounds hidden under a sheath…

A consciousness held stable by parring things down, denying events and feelings, surface level calmness. Everything is beautiful, beautiful now, but don’t get too close…

Secret histories, are they spoken, lost, or tacitly acknowledged?


How can truth be so lost? How can reality be doubted so much? So much objectivity hidden in distrust, so many tricks of the mind move throughout the shifting of the sun…