A Time Of Temptation

 Day 44. Let’s get this over quick – I’ve got pills to be poppin’, bitches to be bangin’, and supercars to be drivin’. Ha, if only, eh? Then I wouldn’t be sat in the library bloggin’ like a loser to no audience. All jokes aside (you are THE BEST audience really), I feel like I’m doing wonderfully well. I slipped up at the 44 day mark last time I was here, so we’re in the process of setting records here at the moment. We’re righting a previous wrong. Things were going smooth, much the same as they are now, and as time and experience are such trusted confidantes, wouldn’t you know it that I’m now having a bit of a wobble. Nothing major like, it’s all under control (I think), I just feel slightly tempted, that’s all. Mainly because I’ve got the funds in the bank to be able to afford two 8-balls. I’ve never bought two at the same time before, so it would be a substantial blowout. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted, in a sense, a substantial blowout. One where you’re not worried about the stash running low or out completely.

I had that Scarface (1983) feeling when the legal highs were out, because they were pure, uncut, and only £9 a gram. At such cheap rates I could afford to enjoy as many fat stripes as I so desired. No wonder it turned my knees blue, due to poor circulation. I really almost panicked when that happened, I thought it was irreversible. Two 8-balls however would set me back 480 English Sterling, and I could have a break in a Scottish Lodge for that. And that’s without even going to Liverpool to purchase the pornography. That’s another 60 notes including the train fare. My current savings would be demolished and I’d be back to scrimping around until the next pay day again, running flat on booze, fags and food. Which are a lot very far more important than getting off my head for one sesh on the porn. It would be a helluva night like, don’t get me wrong, but do you really want to read another Relapse post from me? Have I got another one left in me? The higher you climb the further back you slip. It’s so cruel, I just wanna enjoy myself, but as I keep saying, it only ends in tears. And I don’t really enjoy it anymore: It enjoys me.

I’ve talked about the open portal before and the fact that the porn stars can see me, and that they give me instructions and commands and get extremely bossy and evil. You might think that is the schizo in me talking but I can assure you that something supernatural occurs when I view porn on illegal drugs. It zaps me of all my power. I’m left feeling hopeless and worthless. It’s these feelings I’ve got to try and remember when I’m getting tempted for one night of pleasure. It will undo weeks and weeks of hard work; I just got a double fist-bump off The Illingworth (my key worker), and he wouldn’t be doing nice things like that if I relapsed again. It’s the little things like that which seem to make it all worthwhile, don’t you think?