Behind Blue Eyes

24

March 24th

It's the morning after my little drug excursion. I feel... fine. As wild as that may seem, I don't really feel anything. Maybe I can try taking it again sometime today and see how I feel. Now that it's working it's way back into my system, I can maybe get a solid buzz going. I debate on wanting to take one now, but it's way too early for that. I mean, it could backfire.

Paul texts me asking how I'm holding up. I relpy to him that I'm still shitty, but there's nothing he can really do. He asks if he wants me to come over, but I politley decline. I would ruin his day. He assures me it wouldn't but I don't reply back.

Everyone is out of the house for the day. David went to a couple of job interviews to earn some money for himself when he eventually moves out, and good for him. Mom and Dad are obviously at work.

I spend most of the day being a lazy shit. I really wish I still had Max around to keep me company, but I don't. I toy with the idea of going over to visit him, taking them up on their offer, but it's too much to handle at this time. The wounds are still fresh, and I would prefer no salt in them at the moment.

---

A few hours of isolation in the house causes me to go stir-crazy. I think of sober things to do to take my mind off of things, but nothing seems to be working. I think of potential stories to write down in my notebook, both short and long. None of them are really resonating with me, though; one's about following a couple through love and divorce. That's too sad. A horror story about a man fighting his mental illnesses as they come to visual life before him. Maybe, that one. Some of the other ones don't make it past a few words in my head.

I head upstairs and take a soak with one of the CBD bombs. It helps de-stress me, but not enough to distract me. It's a half hour before I drain the tub and get out.

After drying off and getting dressed, I sit on my bed and look at my nightstand. David's been home for the last few minutes, but he just went straight to his room. I take it the job interviews might have been dead ends.

I pull open the drawer and take the baggie out. I instantly pull one of the pills out and set it in my mouth. Instead of swallowing it, I chew it up first. Hell, it might affect the high, I'm not sure.

This time, it only takes thirty minutes before it's grip takes ahold of me. I don't have as strong of a reaction to it as I did the first two times, but it's a nice buzz I got going.

I sit on my bed just gazing at the ceiling, transfixed by the simple, yet elaborate patterns adorned on it. I hear some minor popping sounds in my ears, but it feels like your ears popping on a flight. I start laughing, minor at first, but then it rails off into an uncontrollable giggle fit. I don't know why I'm laughing so hard, but it's enough to distract me.

The high wears off after a couplke of hours. I haven't gotten the timing of it back, yet. Last year, it used to be three hours. This time, it seems as if it's all over the place. It wears off easily, tonight, so I'm super thankful for that. I don't feel too remorseful after this trip. Some, yes, but not as much as before.

I have no trouble falling asleep, tonight. It takes me only ten, maybe fifteen minutes before my mind shuts off. I wake up an hour later after I have a very vivid dream of playing around with Max, which gives me false hope that he's somehow returned, but it was only in my head. After that, I softly cry myself back to sleep.