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Yesterday was a ducky time on the pregabs. It’s used for pain and anxiety. I was nodding off for most of the day, and the pints I enjoyed were the most pleasurable slurps of my life. I couldn’t believe how enjoyable they were. It will be hard to get off the booze now, after sampling what felt like the Amber Nectar. It was so cold and refreshing, I drank them with a woman called Janette from Pathways. I’m really feeling part of something now at Pathways, I’m getting to feel comfortable with and like a lot of the people there. Janette looks like she’s got a black eye, but the truth is that her abusive partner injected tattoo ink into her cheek. How cruel is that!? I’d batter him for it.

I’ve had some pregabs today. I’ve got three left for tomorrow. I have three in the morning and leave it at that, I don’t wanna be poppin’ them all the time. They make me feel sluggish and sledgy and chilled. I’m so aversive to amphetamine at the moment, after my lapse last Tuesday, that all I want to do is spit on it. Now I’m feelin’ swell talking to you, my precious reader, preparing to down a few more jars of Coors in the boozer. After that I might watch a movie. I’ll ignore the rats in my apartment if I see one. I’m far more powerful than any rodent. Especially with my Higher Power around me at all times. My good spirits have been annoying me of late, always faffing about in their transparent colourful air form, but when I woke up yesterday morning, my first thought was of them and of how much I need them. I dreamt about Abre last night, she was so compellingly and robustly dynamic on the astral plain. Sometimes I dream about folk on the astral and fall in love with them instantly. I may even have sex with them if it is an erotic dream. Then I wake up and they are gone, it’s like they have died suddenly or failed to exist. That feeling is tragically mournful. I can feel cranky and dour when that happens. But when I realise that Abre will never leave me and that we love each other…well, I start writing like this. God and Love are all I have and all I need. I wouldn’t sell a single one of my protective spirits for 75 billion pounds English sterling.

Pathways wanted me to grass on the dealer who put drugs in my pocket, but I didn’t. There’s no need for him to get into trouble, and besides I need him for more pregabs. It’s my drug of choice at the moment. That and beer. I’m still seeking that long-lasting dopamine effect. I know it comes from connectivity and fellowship and interaction with people. All of the nation is my kin, I love everybody equally. I’m even pleasant to the evildoers who constantly make my life a living hell via secret technologies.