So, it’s been about a year now since I delved into the depths of hardcore drug abuse. And in that year it’s been a seemingly on-and-off-again affair regarding my overall situation with it.

Some weeks I’m constantly fucked up, other weeks I’m as sober as a Mormon.

And it seems to be a vicious cycle that as of yet so far I’ve yet to break clean of.

It all started when I was in the throes of the deepest depression of my life. Seven grueling months had passed since I had said my last farewells to Ms. Mitzi Villalba, someone who for over 2 year I’d been madly in love with.Someone whom had gone about as full circle as it get’s in my life.

Armed with the prior knowledge of how effectively OxyCodone removed the pain that was memories of two years of joy, sorrow, laughter, pain, and every other emotion I could at the time conceive of I found myself a supplier for a rather similar substance. Diamorphine. And to be quite blunt about it, it is perfection in a drug. no majorly obvious or debilitating side effect when dosed properly, and easy enough to disguise as a seasonal bug should someone notice the nausea or tiredness. Plus the overall cost of entry was rather low. At the time 30 bucks scored me half a gram, along with some tinfoil, Bic lighter, and a straw or pen tube, I was set to abuse a drug I’d been warned about since early in my childhood.

And for a time all was well in the world of Ryen, then came a time where my main supplier found himself, and up and put himself in rehab. ANd for 5 months I was clean, he was my middleman for all transactions, and having lost that, and moved immediately prior, I no longer had the social circle that had previously supplied me with these opportunities.

I was clean, for a few months anyways. Getting your own place, starting a job, and building a new social life are all time and money consumers, and I didn’t have the chance to rekindle any of the old friendships that would allow me access.

Then came December, and it just so happened to be a 3 paycheck month. And I found myself looking at a $400 excess of cash, and… for the first time… I felt lonely. Not just “Oh I haven’t hung out with so-and-so in a while lonely. I found myself gut wrenchingly lonely. The kind where you realized you haven’t touched another human being in a year,

So, I made a few calls, sent a few text messages, and the next day, I had my beloved drug of choice again. THis time in an abundance I hadn’t previously found myself in. $400 buys you a decent amount of Heroin, and I was set for a few weeks.

Now, in the entirety of this post, I haven’t mentioned one thing. I don’t go through withdrawals like most, when I stop, I’m tired for a day, then I’m good to go. No hallucinations, no sweats, no shakes, jst.. a bit under the weather for a day and that’s all.

Knowing this I’ve since found myself in an on-and-off-again relationship with it. Lately though it’s hit the point of having a budget for it.Having a budget for it, and an excess income of over 800 a month has made it pretty much non-stop lately.

And I find myself questioning if it’s time to quit for good, of just stay at my current level of the rabbit hole.

And that’s the one thing I can’t adequately answer. See, My bills get paid, my condo maintained, food is in the fridge, even if I never eat(Hurray losing 50 pounds!) it. I’m not stealing from anyone, and it keeps the loneliness at bay.

So I seem to find myself in the position of asking “Why should I stop? What difference does it really make?”