Bad Dreams.

I went to bed early last night like the old woman of 35 that I am. I dreamt of my old job again, and of pleading with my boss to let me come back. Clearly I have unresolved issues because I have this dream rather frequently.

I quit my job two months ago or so, and I’ve been a wreck ever since. I struggle to find ways to make money, but I am spurred on by the hope that I can do something for myself that truly fulfills me.

This morning, upon waking up, I checked my site to see that I SOLD A BOOK. It’s a coloring book for adults that I created in a rather barbaric way, using MS Word and my brain’s expansive index of bad words. I sold one copy and I am on top of the world.

I choose to see my meager $1.07 royalty as a sign that I am finally on the right path in life. I choose to view that one sale as affirmation that sometimes it’s okay to step out onto the metaphorical ledge in life and see what happens.

In spite of all these bad dreams and all of the mistakes I’ve made that still follow me around, today I am hopeful for something better.

Cheers.

 

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The Tiniest Tease.

“I am addicted to him as much as I am addicted to the drugs. He is the needle in my arm and the warmth flowing through my veins. He is my god and my ruler, my friend and foe. I kiss him goodbye for the last time. We are sitting alone. Alone and forgotten by the world that we’ve forgotten long ago. I kiss him goodbye for the last time.”

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When All Hell Breaks Loose.

Why is it that when things start going well for you, life finds a way to screw it up?

This time, life, I shall have no part in it. I’ve rebuked the devil, prayed about my worries, and fully fucking intend to continue living my life, striving for my dreams every single day, no matter what.

Today, out of nowhere, I was contacted by my exboyfriend, whom I haven’t spoken to in quite some time. He offers up a heroin dealer to me. I’m sure he has some ulterior motive or great idea that involves me driving him around or buying him drugs. Not this time, buddy.

The thing is, though, that while I have the good sense not to completely screw myself over (again), I’m still really bothered by the fact that it even happened.

Hearing from him makes me sick. I don’t mean that in the way that I’m disgusted by him (although I am); I mean that he still has a terrible hold over me — even in a physiological way. It hurts me in a way that rattles me to my core and makes my stomach turn on itself.

He is my gateway or portal into the world where I used to live. The one where I cared about no one but myself. No, the one where I didn’t even care about myself. It’s time to shut that door for good.

Although there will always be a part of me that is tempted to go back to that life, there’s a bigger, stronger part of me now that refuses to fall into that trap. I am stronger.

To those out there who may be suffering from addiction — keep fighting. Always keep fighting.

Cheers.

 

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