Today I received an email from R***, my drug addiction Counsellor. She's asked to see me at 3pm on Monday. Her email was very unexpected. Recently I have neglected my counselling, so I knew due to her initiating communication the outcome could not be good.
My drug use has sky rocketed, being the UK's most favourite junkie has certainly encouraged me to use more. As ethylphenidate has a relatively short half life, within half an hour, any euphoria has vanished completely, putting the carpet cleaner, of the same name, into second place.
By 2-4 hours any positive effects are slowly diminishing and the 'come down' starts to crescive slowly until negativity surpasses positivity.
My cool calm head starts to pick up its pace. As if I'm Lewis Hamilton, in a formula one racing car at Brands Hatch.
It jumps and flits from subject to subject, with no clear route from thought to thought. 'Look at the robin', 'that cloud looks like a fish', 'where can I bang up?', 'my jumper's itchy'. Thought after thought. Constantly, unrelentingly chaotic.
The anxiety begins to cause a pain in my chest. As if I have a large ball of spinning energy. The feeling of dread and doom radiating from the bottom of my rib cage, spreading through my body.
The anxiety and chaos in my head is undoubtedly increased due to psychosis by mum and dad naturally, in turn, this increases my drug use.
I'm certainly not coping with this whilst being sober. If I'm having 'drug induced psychosis' I'm absolutely consuming the drugs.
This is what my crazy, evil family clearly cannot comprehend. Doing this shit only makes me use more. However they're in too deep now to admit they've clearly failed and their sick version of psychosis has only elevated my drug use.
Using speed was an imperative requirement to survive. It was a prerequisite of life. Air, food (albeit very little), water, shelter, warmth, sleep and speed.
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