Monday, November 06, 2006

Trying not to think

In everyday life I wrap lies around me, thick bubble wrapped lies, I paste on flawless masks, I stomp the secrets deep. I have to, to survive. It used to feel so free, to wipe away the bullshit, and let my heart peep out, here, anonymously. But recently, when I've sat down to write here, it's been hard. I feel like I'm drifting away. It's getting harder to be truthful. I pick and choose the information, afraid of your reactions. I know that none of you (except for Michael- once, for 20 fast minutes) have met me in 'real life'- but I've been writing on this site for six months at least. So now, after all my uncensored burble, you, the people reading this regularly, know me better than anyone else. I know you want me to be clean, some of you care a lot, more than you should. I feel bad for pulling you in so close.

I hate writing about drugs now. I feel your frowns. Or maybe it's just my own, glaring back at me, stamped on your imaginary faces. I know I'm letting myself down, but it's so much easier when it's just me. It makes no sense why I can't cut the cord, let go of the weight that locks me into living the same situation, over and over. I don't know why I can't do it. I feel embarrassed. I talk about quitting and seem to want it. And at that moment I'm certain, so absolutely, fucking sure that the last time I withdrew the needle, eyes closed, heart buzzing with softness, sunshine racing through my veins, was the very last. Sure in myself, full of commonsense until that second. Like a switch, or dial turned high, in the mid-afternoon. One glancing thought. Half a thought. Then the phone number starts repeating in my head, louder and louder. And my heart starts beating, high and fast, like you could see it, through my shirt. It fills up my ears, I can't write, or think, meetings I'm just partly there, trying not to, feeding myself reasons like snacks, as if they can fill up my hunger.

Finally I think fuck it. Tomorrow. I'll be stronger tomorrow. And my finger is dialing even while my mind is shouting no Tui, what are the fuck are you doing? stop, stop it goddam it. It's like my finger doesn't even belong to me, my feet walk to meet him, with an unusually decisive stride, get out of my way motherfuckers, withdrawing cash, it's like I'm trapped inside a robot's body. I'm just a whisper, a silent scream. Powerless to change what has been set in motion. And to drown out the scream, I think well it's only shitty because of the money. People have done this for centuries, and in some cultures it's acceptable. It's better than gambling, and that's legal. I don't agree with lots of laws, opiates aren't bad for my body, they don't affect my work, they make me more creative. They're like an anti-depressant, to stop me thinking about ways to kill myself. They stop me seeing the world the way it really is, they kiss away the tears, hold me in the tightest hug, soften the corners, stir in a sugar cube, melt the cold, gloss the cruelty and stupidity and violence of humanity. It's just the cost, I tell myself. I wouldn't be concerned with quitting if it wasn't for my hiked tolerance. 'Just the cost' is bigger than it sounds. It may not be the best reason, but it's big, and dark and lonely.

Someday, I want freedom. A daughter who looks like me. Someone to love like my mother loved me. I want to work on my own ideas and art, live in a house on a cliff by the sea, hear the waves crashing against it. I don't want to feel sick when I think of money, and angry. I work hard, I could be well off, paying a mortgage, driving a nice car, holidaying in fucked up, crazy places, wouldn't that be more inspiring? And then I think, but that is just like everyone else. I will be swallowed up, disappear. I will count on my death to stand apart, hope for something horrific and shocking, something that can be made into a tv movie, with that girl from Melrose Place to play me. And then at least she will remember me, if only for bad reviews and the death of her career.

Fuck the picket fence. I'm used to people thinking I'm strange, I've always been a triangle in a square world. Yes, every child thinks they will be a godlike figure to change the world. Magic from their fingertips, name whispered through generations, carved in stone. Everybody believes they're 20% better looking than they are. Everyone feels so fucking special that they can't give up, if it's not them it will be their children. Their children suck, so then it will be the grandchild. Desperate to make a difference, feel like it was all worth something. To not be just another blip of cells and flesh. Just in case there isn't a heaven, or reincarnation. Just in case we just disintegrate into the earth, chewed by worms, absorbed into trees. A memory shaded into a blossom, or baked into an apple pie. Sometimes I think a ghost is simply another word for an unusual echo, a strong moment, the future or the past, etched through time, a kind of photo, a reverb. Who would really want to stay as a spirit watching the living? Not able to participate, just linger. Like me at a meeting spoken all in French, requested to be there, but bored out of my brain, watching the second hand transforming my future into past.

So many unknown questions. I really wish blind faith was enough for me. Life would be so simple, unworrying, quite jolly in fact. Someone dies, well, see you later, in an eternal vacation without bugs or sunburn or lost luggage. Sounds dreamy. Definately worth donating 10% (or is it 15%) of your salary to a church for. Cheaper than an old folk's home. But then... who knows? Like you I can feel a warm part in my soul which feels connected to something. I believe in being kind and good and respecting the people I love, trying not to hurt them, be there for them. Be a positive influence on the world. Pass on happiness, help a stranger and they will help someone too. That's logical. I want to believe something big is out there, looking over me, an invisible hand in mine. I want to believe that if I pray I can avoid ever being raped or abused- never experience that dreaded c-word, so common on the doctors' chart. I want it all, every religion, all the myths aand fantastical, beautiful promises, to be true.

But if a god is there, smiling down, why do bad things happen to good people? Over and over. And why are there people who take pleasure in another person's pain? They call themselves religious but delight in hate. Hating gays, other religions, prostitutes, drug users, me. If I could believe in a god, I couldn't believe he'd take sides, I can't believe he'd hate.

The only person I soften my opinion for is my granny. I can't tell her I don't believe in heaven. She's about to step over, somewhere. I know she's scared. She thinks about it a lot. She turns to the obituarys first, when the paper is delivered. Reads another friend's name aloud. I try to believe that my best friend, and others who've died in the past 2 years are at peace somewhere fabulous. But one thing, like an itch just out of reach, niggles me again and again. Why us? Why humans? What makes us better or different than any other living thing? If anything, we're worse, cruel, greedy, arrogant. Arrogant enough to think we'll live forever.

Disagree with me. I want to be convinced.


Blogger monicker said...

I'm sorry, Tui, I can't disagree with you.

I've had those exact thoughts so many times, the first when I was younger than ten years old, and then time and time again after that, every time life fucked me so brutally; I sometimes wonder that I didn't die young.

I still get angry occasionally when confronted with the idea that some supreme being has a grand plan. Because that meant that I was singled out - I, for some reason, was chosen to feel so much pain - while others got off scot free.

Contrary to the insistence of so many of my friends, I began to be much happier when I stepped away from the fantasy, despite the knowledge of what terminal then meant.

9:19 PM  
Blogger Michelle's Spell said...


I loved this post and understand what you mean about feeling nervous about exposing parts of yourself and the comments you receive. But I know this to be true -- writing the truth, whatever it is, however bleak and sad, inspiring or horrific, is a spiritual calling. Ultimately people read because of this fact and this fact only -- in a world full of bullshit, people crave whatever bits of authentic experience they can get -- it gives them hope, lets them identify, and makes them think. Keep writing -- forget the audience's reaction. Your approach to life seems very much like the Wallenda quote -- Life is the walking the tight rope. Everything else is waiting. I read your blog because it gives me a view of reality that other things don't. Please never water it down! As for the fence and all that, yawn! I feel certain it's not everything it's cracked up to be.

9:27 PM  
Anonymous Beth said...


I think if you are happy now, while using, then that is the main thing...

Shit happens in the world, but it will always be there whether or not you are using. I know you say opiates don't harm your body and that is true, but one day you could OD and die...And you have got too much to offer the world - you are too young with too much to do.

It is very easy to make excuses 'yeah but we all die one day, could be run over by a bus tomorrow'. But it would seem pretty tragic if you were to die from an OD than if you were to die in some random accident (I mean either way would be tragic but if you were to OD it would seem more so).

'They make me more creative' (opiates). But being a heroin addict can be the most mundane boring existance ever - getting,using, getting more etc etc. I would love to be able to just go off with mates on a spur of the moment trip to France etc. but I'm always tied to collecting my script, same thing everyday. I would love to be free of that, thats what I'm aiming for - eventually!

And maybe the only reason you feel that heroin makes you more creative is because when you are not using all your thoughts are consumed by wanting to so you can't allow your mind to drift off to other things - theres only one thing on it...And then when you are high you are free to let your mind wander for a little while..

But it may be very different for you, I don't really know how you feel! I don't think you should worry about what the readers of your blog think. Of course we would be very happy for you if you chose to stop using but I don't think anyone would want you to stop writing if you didn't...And I bet no-one is disapproving or 'frowning' when they read it.

Life is precious (whether you are a human or a mouse) and I think we are designed to feel things, happiness, sadness, anger & sorrow. Whatever! Heroin numbs all that and it's nice to take the edge off pain but it's not so great when it steals the rest of your emotions as well...

Lots of love - Beth x

10:35 AM  
Anonymous Marty in Detroit said...

You're a really talented writer and your wanting to share your thoughts with others means to me that you really love people. So don't do drugs because they cut down on your time to love people and our time to love you through your writing. I'm not very good at arguing, but I love reading you, so please stop the drugs but don't stop writing.

10:58 AM  
Anonymous Lox said...

Tui - It's not about religion...religion is awful.

My experience is this (and I am definitely not a bible thumper)...Jesus is cool and makes things better...that i promise you. Forget religion and try and shout to Jesus (yeah i know it sounds corny)...thing is he listens and is the only one that will give you teh desires of your heart, love you unconditionally and for unending time and can replace and surpass the sunshine that you need.


PS - I knwo that this post will not sit well with most people...but give it a go and you will not be dissapointed.

2:54 PM  
Blogger Too Dark Park said...


We will not live forever.

We will regret things when we are on our death bed. Especially people like myself, and yourself.

We will look back, and realized that we've wasted so much time.. you'll instantly wish you were smarter and stronger.

I don't want to be on my deathbed at an old age thinking back to an entire lifetime of wasted time. I already realize that i will both regret, and not regret my experiences..they've made me into who i am now.. but i won't let them become me.. i wish the same for you..

you will never be normal. even if you stopped doing drugs right now, and started vacationing, and bought yourself a nice car, and lived a normal pattern of life.. you simply cannot be normal. you are going through heavy addiction. your mind has been permanently changed by it. you will never ever be normal. you have experiences, you have tapped into emotions, and you have had trips.. visions.. drug experiences.. more than any other normal person has ever been close to.

just don't let those become you.

you still have the power to override it, and find solace, and inspiration in the idea that you will be an addict for life, you don't have to keep reminding yourself.

not sure if this makes sense. but you are inherently a creative person. drugs aren't making you more creative. they might ignite your already existing creativity, but drugs don't have properties in them that make you creative.

think about that next time you want to score. think about the fact that you are just a receptor for these drugs. they're not doing anything that you cannot achieve without them.

please try your best to be well..

i hope this means something to you..

12:42 PM  
Blogger The Very Reverend Ace Clemmons, Jr. said...

Unfortuneatly Tui, i agree with you.

Religion is really just a tool that humans use to *make sense* out of things that just seem so horrific, that without it life would seem sensless and meaningless in the great void of the universe. Its so much easier to think that a loved one *goes somewhere* upon death rather than ceasing to exist. It also makes it more palatable for us to think of our own death that way. Were we to acknoledge the fact that we merely cease to exit, there would be very little order, laws, morals and ethics in society. Folks would do what they please when they please, because there is no price to be paid to a higher authority.

However. For some reason, i do think there is something beyond death of the human body. i have no idea what it is, but i am fairly certain it has nothing to with religion.

Great post bTW>


12:46 PM  
Anonymous eric said...

Tui; have you ever considered reading the Vedanta? I think about many of the same things you have spoken about here, and I find there is a lot of interesting commentary from the Vedas that relates directly.
I love to read your work because it reminds me so much of my own thoughts.... bests,

4:33 PM  
Blogger fairscape said...


we have chosen to come to this life

it is just like choosing to get on a rollercoaster

we are here for the experience

there is no right or wrong

there is only the ride

taking drugs while on the ride just alters the experience

do what you want

you'll return to the place you came from and you'll be back

think of yourself as a raindrop

you come from above

join a stream a river an ocean

evaporate into the clouds

and return as a raindrop

one of millions

part of all

no god

no religion

no reward

no punishment

just being

7:46 AM  
Anonymous ChapFu said...

yeah. what he/she said. totally.

9:38 AM  
Anonymous scatt said...

Money is basically the reason I quit (well, I didn't so much quit as switch to recreational use, but that switch required quitting for a period). I mean, there were other reasons- I wasn't enjoying myself anymore, I was tired of being in a constant state of withdrawal- but money was basically the clincher. I couldn't make enough to support my habit, even in the sex industry (though it doesn't help that I'm a lousy hustler), so it wasn't like there was a huge choice involved anyway.

Good luck.

10:58 PM  
Blogger havemycake said...

"Sometimes I think a ghost is simply another word for an unusual echo;" i bet you're a poet. this line is gorgeous.

1:25 AM  
Anonymous elliot said...

Screw everybody that judges you. I take opiats to keep myself sane. Heroin is the best goddamned antidepressant in the world. Ive quit before. It sucks. I stomp cigaretted butts out on my body and try to drum up the courage to finally kill myself. Life is much more simple when you are an opiate addict. If you can afford it I say do it.

3:20 AM  
Anonymous Beth said...

Life is much more simple when you are an opiate addict??!!

Yeah maybe in that you don't have to give a fuck when you are high.

But what about the times when you are hanging round waiting for assholes that say 10 minutes and make you wait an hour? What about clucking when you can't score? What about the agony you cause the people that love you? What about the times when you spend hours trying to have a hit? Day in, day out scoring, using, scoring again?? Thats simple is it??

Life is for living not shutting out..

I can't talk. I'm a heroin addict too BUT it ain't a simple life. Heroin steals your life and steals your soul so you care about nothing else.

I know what you mean about not feeling like you want to live after you stop..but that feeling DOES pass and things get better. Well for me it did. Everyone is different and this is only my opinion...

I first saw heroin as the solution to my problems, before I found heroin I felt constantly on edge, unable to relax etc etc. But heroin soon became the problem. I wasn't me, I was a zombie, heroin was my world but I would no way call it a 'simple life'.

I couldn't say for sure that if I had an endless supply of money I wouldn't do it everyday. I'm not 100% certain. I would like to think I wouldn't as I hate the thought of going back to that life. I love not having it on my mind 24/7. I love appreciateing the little things in life that you wouldn't normally have time for..

The simple things in life.

How are you Tui??? Good I hope x

9:35 AM  
Blogger tui said...

I have never had a friend free from depression. Is it the drugs, the cities, pollution, diet, pesticides? Probably. But the biggest reason, I believe, is no religion. It's like opium. A legal pacifier. I wish it would work for me. There are too many questions. Each of us alone. A speck in a mad world. The world itself a speck, in a universe full of mysteries. Nothingness ahead of us. Yes you. Even you. Avoided with a web of euphemisms. Skipped over. We, the generation living in Western countries with a computer in every household, two cars in double garages, two sets of parents in two houses. TV to babysit us and teach us how to be. What to want. We cover up the fear with desire. Maybe the extra reach toothbrush will be the band aid. Maybe if my thighs are like the ones in magazines. Then I can be happy. If it's not money, it's looks, if it's not looks, it's personality, not personality, it's sex. More, give me more of everything. Fill up the hole. The doubt. Beautiful advertising, it creates flaws for us to fix. We need it. We need to consume, so we can have hope. We need to be distracted by thousands of little niggles, anything to not think of the inevitable. But no matter how perfect our breasts are, stuffed with silicone, our nike clad bodies have that date barrelling towards us. Maybe tomorrow. The time of death marked on a chart in blue biro. And the next day the world will wake up without you. And that's that.

8:48 PM  
Anonymous Beth said...


thats the only certainty we have in life. That we ALL die...

No matter what.

But that is quite comforting in a way, we are all in the same boat. Not as alone as we thought.

We don't know when, we don't know how. Thank God...

6:17 PM  
Blogger Lazy said...

I've thought these things, yeah, and realising these things, not killing yourself is absurd.


I want to see everything. Want to understand. Want that moment of epiphany, to see essential reality, like in the Matrix near the end when suddenly Neo sees the numbers dropping and sees reality for what it is.

I don't know much about anything but I have intuitions. And I think killing yourself is wrong. And heroin, you can give a few years to it, but not a whole life. Cause evolution, all the brutal eons of blood and pain, it has to mean something... It's working towards something... Something bigger and better and more humane and meaningful...

But yeah, it's easy to get nihilistic.

11:54 AM  
Anonymous Mad Ethel said...

I don't know what to say about religion. I'm a bit confused myself. I was raised in a christian environment. I've been baptized. I thought I was well on my way to finding that perfect christian happiness. I believe in spirits - good and bad - and I believe there is a God. But I don't know what my role is. I am skeptical that the religion I was brought up on is the one "Truth." I hate bigots and zealots. I can't stand uber-christians that cram it down your throat. I think that organized religion has completely lost site of it's original purpose. So I don't go to church. I don't pay tithe because I am too lukewarm. I want to scream in anger when I see signs that read "Jesus Saves" because that doesn't explain anything. Too much food makes you fat - so where's the sign for that and the analytical breakdown of it all?
I do believe we all have a void to fill and it's part of our life purpose to find what fits. I would like to believe God fits in there perfectly, but that's where my issue comes in full play.

So I'm frustrated. But don't give up. There is peace and it is waiting to be found. No one else can take our journey in our stead. That's the beauty of it all.

3:01 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home