it's a pretty dark)? Yesterday I stumbled upon some journal entries I wrote when I was seventeen years old. Every single one was a hateful, drug-induced rant directed towards myself. Now, I know that some circumstances in my life are pretty fucked up at the moment, but sorting through my thoughts as a young adolescent made me realize that I have come a long way. Reading that journal also deepened my understanding of denial's grim nature. One specific entry, written shortly after I got released from residential treatment, silenced my current qualms with life.
January-December of 200 marks a horrific period of time in my life. I had a staggering heroin habit that I maintained through prostitution. On the rare occasion I couldn't find any dope, I would drink a fifth of vodka. My best friend committed suicide shortly after we went on a drug bender together and I showed up to her funeral blasted. Th cops were circulating the neighborhood that afternoon and spotted my passed out body in the center of the parking lot. They hauled me away to detox, and after being deemed a danger to myself, I was civilly committed to a state hospital for six months.
January-December of 200 marks a horrific period of time in my life. I had a staggering heroin habit that I maintained through prostitution. On the rare occasion I couldn't find any dope, I would drink a fifth of vodka. My best friend committed suicide shortly after we went on a drug bender together and I showed up to her funeral blasted. Th cops were circulating the neighborhood that afternoon and spotted my passed out body in the center of the parking lot. They hauled me away to detox, and after being deemed a danger to myself, I was civilly committed to a state hospital for six months.