Using

Well, where are we up to? I feel clean, serene, pristine and supreme. It’s about time. Long may it last but I’m not bothered if it doesn’t. To be frank with you, my dealer is in prison. I’m missing him a lot and I hope he gets out soon. The urge to use is still prevalent, so I’ve not really cracked it. I’m clean by default, in a way. But clean is clean – you’re either clean or you’re not. I’m feeling dapper, just about to go through the spellchecking/proofreading part of my novella and get a perfect hard copy made. Then I’ll make a photocopy and hand it to Clint, a volunteer at my mental health drop in. He seems to know his books so I’m confident he’ll give me some decent feedback.

I had a further 121 with Fiona from the drop in yesterday. The night before at Peer Support depression group I had another mild panic attack and left promptly (it’s becoming a habit), but with Fiona I feel relaxed and calm enough to open up and share. She made me write a list about the pros and cons of using. The pros were: That it is euphorically rapturous coming up off illegal intoxicants while simultaneously indulging in (perverse?) sexual desire, it kills a helluva lot time, and it knocks depression (temporarily) out of the ballpark. The cons were that it depresses me when it’s over, it induces psychosis, and it leaves me flat broke. Plus I feel like a piece of shit, I hate myself, and I want to die because of the voices and hallucinations. Also, I drink a lot when it’s over.

The truth is, I don’t even need porn anymore. I use substances to the female voices inside my head. They are very mean and cruel but sexy at the same time. They talk dirty to me and get me going. It’s like my own private sex line inside my noggin. I very rarely divulge this information, I’m not sure of the correct fashion to disclose it. It’s hard to talk about. I feel like I’m blabbing on the Devil. It’s been happening for about seven years. They say anything I want them to say and make other voices repeat them in a mantra. I see it as a sexually-orientated female domination soundtrack. It does the job. Its purpose is to get me ‘properly’ erect. Properly properly properly properly. And whenever I’m watching porn, this line comes in to distract me from it. I always turn my attention to the ‘line’ at this point, and start fapping away to that all day and night. It’s very powerful and in a way I am enslaved to it. In all honesty, given my recent abstinence, I am filled with excited anticipation at the thought of retracing my footsteps back to it. I wish this wasn’t the case, but it is. Evil disembodied women being all erotic and fem-dom just for me. It’s titillating.

The bonus is that the Celluloid Corridor (porn) loses all its power, and almost becomes invalid, kaput and out of commission. Good riddance to that, because, when I’m watching those female interracial babe actresses, something else supernatural happens. They start talking to me too. From the telly. ‘Talking Televisions’ are very popular in modern mental illnesses. It used to be Jesus Christ, or Joan of Ark (one of my spiritual wives), or God, or John the Baptist, but now it’s the television. Well, I can certify this phenomenon because several of my friends have substantiated it and it’s happened to me to boot. It's known in the psychiatric game as 'thought broadcasting.'  This is partly some of the reason why I haven’t watched television for over two years. Anyway, more from me later, good bye.