It's almost 11pm and where am I? Not asleep, obviously. Not high, unfortunately. I'm sitting in front of the computer, squinting up at the screen and trying way too hard to think of something even remotely clever to write. It's sad that this is the best I can come up with. I know I should go on to say something about how happy and well-adjusted I've become in the time I've been clean, but I'm just not feeling up to that sort of self delusion right now. If you've read this far then I feel I should at least spare you the usual "I've worked sooo hard and come so far, Praise Jesus blah, blah, blah." You don't deserve that crap and I get semi-nauseous just thinking such drivel, much less writing it down or "gulp" expressing it aloud. I have nothing against self- improvement or God for that matter, but I refuse to spout bullshit just because it's what I'm expected to say. I'm sure mom would love to hear me say that I am a changed girl, have turned over a new leaf ect., but it's just not so. The fact that I have gone this long without so much as seeing a syringe much less actual Heroin is due to this town, not my self control.
That's right people, if you ever think to make a completely life altering change, move to Farmington, New Mexico. Nothing against this place (not really anyway), but for a displaced junkie it sucks. Aside from being like the Twilight Zone (in a bad, completely uninteresting way), there is not shit to do here. Every time I set foot outside the door I am painfully reminded of how much I miss Cali. Seriously, it hurts me.
I'm sure that any Farmingtonians will be pissed to read this, you know the whole, " I can shit talk my town but no one else can" thing. Well, Fuck all y'all.
Anyway, I feel like this place is severely off in so many ways. Where are all the hustlers and Dope fiends ect.? Not here. If they are I can't find 'em. Not the kind I want anyhow. So frustrating.
It has come to my attention, via the Internet, that Northern New Mexico is supposed to be flooded with mass quantities of Black. Apparently Espanola is the O.D. capital of the USA. In what twisted alternate reality is it possible that I am a mere few hours from this Dope Mecca, yet cannot score to save my life? Can it be that no enterprising Paisa's have thought to share the bounty of the Espanola Valley here with us in crappy Farmington?
It's rather pathetic that at this point I am so violently in need of a good shot that I am trying to mastermind a fool-proof way to get one of my fellow junkies back home to send me some. I know, you laugh, and don't think I haven't spent countless hours trying to devise some way to fulfill this mission without getting totally ripped off. It's nothing against my babies in Bako, but come on now, let's be honest, we're all Dope fiends and it's so much easier to justify burning someone long distance. You don't have to worry about seeing them face to face or having to come up with some bullshit story, you just avoid their calls and hope they don't come for a visit anytime soon. Easy. Also I know that if someone sent me money to send them some Dope I would probably consider it for all of 5 seconds, then remember the fact that they were in Buttfuck, New Mexico, not strung out at all, just fiending. Therefore it would be logical to assume that I was in much more need of it than those suckers.
So there you have it. My dilemma. If I can so easily see myself doing such a thing (and I am a Princess among Dope fiends), then far be it for me to put it past my junky brethren. I do miss and love you all, even the motherfuckers I can't stand the sight of, that's how homesick I am.
Oh well, better homesick than dope sick I guess. Somehow I can't say that and really mean it. It must be a side effect from all those years of drug use, stupidity with a huge side of selective memory. That must be it because the "good ol days" weren't that great. Yesterday always seems better than today, ain't that about a bitch! I hope I won't be looking back at tonight sometime in the future thinking it was fucking fantastic. M.
