Dear Orchestrated Self-Consumption,
If I breathe more deeply, will I survive on Nothing longer? I want snow. Not only that; I want to go places in the snow – walk a white strawberry field or traverse snow-slushed roofs and people-watch from that perch. I want to jump and feel the air rushing past my face as I plummet into a snowbank where I will sink, dissolving the snow with my own heat, until I'm drowning and have to drink my way out or freeze into a Popsicle for some bear to eat.
“Can I be a cold-weather sunshine addict and substitute warm rain for all these smarmy habits I've picked up, one by one, to caress? I ask because I am at once an injector, a smoker, a snorter and a popper. I do what's for pleasure, for forget, for a griefless night.”
There I was, a heroin addict. I was a junkie who didn't think that junkies existed but still had the theory:
the only person who likes a junkie is another junkie.
I used for six years, shooting into the backs of my knees after my first track-mark in the crook of my right arm. Then October 23rd, 2009 happened and I came clean. Haven't used heroin, alcohol, any illegal substances whatsoever since that date.
I want to hit the road and experience more in every day life. I feel I am in stasis. How could I have gotten here, this place that is the same as every day before it with only minor variations? How could I have let the stillness take me over, without even attempting to resist? And what can I do to fix this problem? I feel I am a failure. Already. I have failed myself. But if only I knew how I have done it, I would know how to fix it, how to avoid it in that place and time they call the future.
I see myself as reactionary, a self-preservationist with a knack for the more dangerous side of life.
I've come to some conclusions about life. That every experience is a cloudburst of chemicals released in some jitter and float across the synapses in the brain. That I care about that fact.
I have no sense of Weltanschauung. I don't need it.
Welt·an·schau·ung /ˈvɛltˌɑnˌʃaʊʊŋ/ [velt-ahn-shou-oong]–nounGerman.
a comprehensive conception or image of the universe and of humanity's relation to it.
Am I symptomatic of an age?
And if I don't eat,
do the incomplete protein chains go to the liver to be converted into glucose, forming energy from nothing?
Primary realization:
I am still. There is a tenseness in me that speeds my heart, the blood pumps in my temples, in my ears, around my brain. I feel it. And yet I am starving and it is numb. Not me. I'm not numb. The world attached to me, a limb, is numb. I can't feel it.
Who Am I? That is what you are all wondering. I will have to find a way to answer this question, soon, without submitting myself to that tendency to lie about the little things that no one cares about to begin with.... I have that in me. It kills almost everything good around me. In this, Honesty is my policy. But Honesty takes time.
