Normaaal

I actually kind of have some money, so today, I went shopping. Okay, so I still have a lot of stuff in pawn, and owe my mum, and friends and and...

But the main thing is, I don't have to come up with 80 bucks for smack every day. Thank-you detox.

So I did what I used to do, pre-drugs.

Listen to music too loud and drive from op-shop to op-shop.

Tried on ten armloads of things and came home with one arm-load. Not bad.

My only jeans I have here on holiday are falling off me (I don't know how I can possibly lose any more weight, but somehow- it keeps happening) and worse, they have blood stains all over the knees. My purse is pretty bad too, because the strap was always my tourniquet, but at least it's leather, so I can wipe it off okay.

I guess I need to get rid of all my needles, they still spill out of my purse when I'm looking for things. I'm not sure why I still keep supplies. Or why that's comforting. I've done the complete purge of all "drug-stuff" many times. Too many. Maybe now it's time to remember.

Complicated

We sat in the car together, post-shot. Mid argument. He passed me something written on a swab packet.
I sighed, "I can't read your writing."
He pointed to it, "it says, will you engage me..." He indicated to turn it over. "...today?"
I looked up at his face. His eyes were spilling with tears- aglint with something new. I hesitated, my anger fading. He looked worried, and beautiful. I smiled, "you're supposed to say: will you marry me."

I am away from him now for two months. He has to sort out his ex-girlfriend, get her psychiatric help, and bond with his daughter so they can't deny him access. She's just starting to talk, and she's asking for him. He's paying his dues, so he says. And then we'll be together. I hope. I hope.

Meantime, I will detox AGAIN.