I WANNA USE AGGGGGHHHH

I WANNA USE I WANNA USE. (a poem)
no fuck that no poem.

also no fucking punctuation. well, maybe punction. fuck it. punctuation.
Fuck spelling.

Well, I wanna get fucked up, and I’m acknowledging it. If I relapsed, let’s…. fuck it. NO MATTER WHAT. FUCK THIS.

this is incredible! I’m such an alcoholic! This is super amazing! Things are going actually pretty fucking marvelous for me – it’s the good times that I think are going to be the hardest for me to ‘suffer’ through. I mean….. Well, i was just super despondent a moment ago about the pointlessness of everything and how ultimately lonely we are and other appropriately emo things.

(I just got done with an amazing hookup – great sex, great connection, former police officer, attractive, wealthy, nice, etc. And the moment I left, I felt this emptiness inside of me. I think that ‘hooking up’ is reminiscent of old behavior, and so the emptiness I felt after was just like the emptiness I felt once I was done and the comedown was upon me when I was using)

Anyway, no connections, loneliness, blah blah blah = fucking use, right?

So what did I do? I called/texted probably 5 people, and posted about the shit on facebook. I didn’t even get to fucking relapse, and I wanted to.

This is some bullshit.

But I guess I’m kind of happy. I mean, I’ll wake up tomorrow with so much relief. I suppose that’s good.

J-