Hello there. I’m pleased to announce that aside from ongoing mental horror, I am absolutely fine today. I didn’t pick up the amphetamine, and my year-plus record remains intact for the time being. I feel like I am getting somewhere with this latest abstinence spree. I feel like the amount of time I go without submitting to temptation matters somewhere else out there in the universe, not just solely to me, and my calendar, which I count the days off on. When I am down and out on drugs, trapped in my room among pale light, I hear screams and general lawlessness echo round the neighbourhood. If I were up and fighting fit and bouncing around the perimeter of the property sober, like a recruit doing a recce, none of that foolishness would be occurin’. So finally I have had to accept that stuff like that is my responsibility. I am a soldier of my streets. Maybe thee one.
My last post was scary because I was half-committed to using. I think that a small portion of my intentional thoughts for the dark side may come from manipulated erotic dreams. I wake up horny after sex with a goat in a vat of treacle or something and the lure of drilling a woman on red satin sheets out-governs all other prerogatives. I’d take anything for a high to aid the procession. Speed is nowhere near as good as coke, but it sure gets you in the aphrodisiacal zone all the same, all night. Now I’m simply enjoying pints of Bud Light, priced at £1.99. I’m living on ham butties, rice and veg stir frys, and tuna pasta sweetcorns. Smokin’ like a trooper again unfortunately. And still no exercise. But my heart is in the right place.
Enough about me. How are your days panning out? Are you keeping busy in this ever-raging tide against the mundane? An hour can feel like a long time with nothing to do in the diary. Always rest assured that things could be a lot worse. Let’s try and be grateful for what we already have. We have each other, for one, and that counts for something from my side of the street. I’m always here, most of the time, to share the surface detail of my escapades. Not that anything much exciting ever happens, but you know what I mean. I’m sick of thinking about invisible energies and evil forces, so the last thing I want to do is spell them out here for you, and get you worried about them too. If you have something similar in your life, mental health namely, then you might know what I mean. Keep quiet and don’t respond sums up the best of the bunch of my advice. Or batter.
I’m talking about oriental cannibals in sheathing suits, about porous black ops hiding under beds, about genetically-engineered assassins lurking in cupboards, about the Devil in Prada bringing tarantulas to a bed he wants to share with you.
I’ve been banging on about this waffle for years. Like I say, I only mention the crème at the top here. There’s a load more substance to my testimony. It’s all great fun now that I have (I think) emerged thru the tribulations with a reformed character. If I was still in the madness, I would be serving myself up. Now, with a forward direction away from miserable suffering for ever, I can look back reflectively and also rise to the challenge of future tortures more positively, if that’s possible. It has to be possible, I might add. I can’t render hope defunct. Every day is hard, but the splendour of the struggle brings its own rewards. It may not seem like a big thing, but being sat here talking to you is a very sweet example of one of them.
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