And then everything.
All at once.
Heroin was a strange mix of the two.
Both insulated,
And exposed.
Both sweaty,
And cool and clammy.
Both hopeful,
And full of despair.
Exsisting in a fantasy world
That it is so real it hurts.
I always like to call it bittersweet
Heroin is bittersweet
Tasting on our toungue
On the back of the throat
When the shot rocks the veins.
The experience much the same...
Bittersweet...
Some of it is sweet
And earthy.
And then you have the bitter
That is sure to follow.
(I think I just stole that from Courtney Love...)
Heroin.
A contradiction
Of everything you know.
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Love this post. So true about H. Anne Frank wrote " I am a little bundle of contradictions". She was speaking of her waivering feelings towards her family's decision to go into hiding. Yet I feel this way because I chose to stick a needle in my arm. I contradicted everything I said and believed. I have choices. I hope I make the right choice tonight. I will see my ex and "mr. d". I want it like I want my first lover, but I know it will only result in my destruction. Trying to talk myself into destruction. It doesn't hurt as much as reality.
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