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A narco-haze is the only thing that will do, I believe. For a weekend. This nice Easter weekend. Relative narco-haze. I mean, a vastly dwindling supply of Vicodin and a relatively dwindling supply of Klonopin.*
*I do not advocate the use of this combination of drugs. Narcotics and Benzodiazapines should never be mixed. You will die.
And though I have an over-sized bottle of white wine in my possession… The weekend rule is not to drink generally.
For reasons, very much under my control (at least, at one point)… I’ve found myself in a situation wherein I literally cannot deal. Now, I say the phrase, “I cannot deal” frequently. Abuse would be the term. Desensitized and overwrought, I’ve rendered it useless. It’s a possibility many people overuse the phrase. For whatever reason and whatever frequency of use in the general populace…
The term I should use is, “I do not deal”. Things that might possibly be too overwhelming do not get dealt with. And so, I have this overall sunny and optimistic disposition. I never understood those with this impending anxiety. Many of these people exist. I was never one of them.
Every single second of every single day, I have some sort of anxiety brewing just subcataneously. Right there. I don’t like it. And I don’t want it. I’ve never experience anything like this.
I understand that this is an acute episode stemming from a specific event. Once I’ve been able clean everything up, it will go away. But I don’t like it.
So narco-haze.
In my decade plus under the influence, I have never gotten the downer-thing. The heroin-thing. I mean, I got heroin, it feels nice, no doubt. But I never understood the wasting away in a dark room-thing.
I like activity.
In any event, the details of my troubles are very mundane. and I cannot possibly get into them here without actually thinking about it. Total buzz kill.
Maintain the narco haze.
Peace out.
