And You're So In

Originally written on October 2, 2009 at 6:23am

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I've wondered how much time I do have before I'm back into the hospital rotation again, in and out of facilities, radiology departments and MRI machines, before they're handing out the MS Contin prescription to a girl who's too young to be on the hard core stuff, who has a history of substance abuse, before they hook me on this shit and then accuse me of being an addict, before I find myself living in a hotel room, talking to no one, holed up, only leaving to work, living off of mini-candies and the high, pushing everyone out of my life with my violent temper.

The only chance I have at a normal life is to stay away from the morphine because it is mind control, it is sufficating, it is consuming, and becomes the most important thing in your life. People, places and emotions are all second place to the hold it has on your body, on your mind. And you're so in, you don't even know it until you wake up one day, on the day you took your last pill.

The apathy alone, the ability to care for nothing, no one, is in and of itself addicting. Morpheus can walk out that door without saying goodbye, and I say nothing. He can leave me, and he's fucking white noise in the background. The bad costumers in the club, who rarely tip, who want you just to reject you, who want to humiliate you, who want to fucking rape your soul, those bastards are out of your head before they ever even arrive at the club.

I made the most money at the club when I was at my worst, mentally and physically. Somehow the only person this didn't seem to bother was me.