MaryTea

How awful it is to be addicted It’s April 22 2014, 19:21 I feel so broken and empty and miserable inside, and I’m going to walk in the rain before I write anything more. (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) ring ring ring ring ring persistant ring ring I do not pick up 20:46 fresh outta treatment & I’ve got myself three part time jobs. I make coffee, (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) I assist scientists, (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) and I’m a regular pedestrian like the robin running ‘cross rainy roads (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) My heart feels heavy, almost too heavy to write but I force it now, hoping for the tide to turn, for my tangled mind to operate differently in a more optimistic way, assuming that it is truth that thoughts become reality hoping that my mind will begin to operate in a way that doesn’t leave me sitting motionless and heavy, staring blankly at walls (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) staring blankly at my piles of clothing that no longer fit, my mess of belongings that have no home accumulation of clutter and memories covered in dust stuff— that I am unwilling to let go of, (and why) feeling a lump in my throat that wants to jump out in the form of a scream directed at nobody in particular “SOMEBODY HELP ME†(and adderall calls, and adderall calls) staring at the messages and the emails that I “need†to reply to crippled by a feeling of urgency, but so strongly feeling held back from deciding to act too many too much like I’ve said too much, too many (times) days pass months go by years dissappear my life has become, what I am so confused and I feel so alone so emotionally disconnected I keep thinking thoughts like “whats the point†(and adderall calls, and adderall calls) and I walk for hours, hoping God will give me a sign through the shuffling of 6000 songs on an ipod that short circuits as often as my neuron pathways next, next, next trying to hear his voice (me of so little faith) through song titles and lyrics playing at random (because isn’t that the way he works) ((meanwhile wondering if anybody else spends time doing things like this)) what is the point in going to work minimum wage wasting my days forcing myself to get to the job which I am grateful to have, but feel unfulfilled during the long commute the early mornings the expectation work, with no passion (where is my passion) what do I want or is that even what it should be about Yesterday I moved a good chunk of my belongings to my new place where I will be living (soon) with my best friend but still I am not happy. Perhaps it is because I am not yet moved in. I believed in order to be happy _ (hah, don’t we all) Well, I believed that in order to begin my journey towards self love (true self love, not the self love I had found under the tainted influence of a capsule) —in order to be on my way towards peace and joy and something better, that I needed a sanctuary and now it is happening, (I am on my way out ((again)) of the heavy toxic energy that I feel at “home†feeling the clash between mother and father in my own DNA, a sort of tugging, within my skin) but I feel no different. Now my mind tells my that in order to be happy_ I need_ (external things, such as) a)a functioning phone (like the functioning adults have) smart phones for the smart adults b)a laptop, my own cyber sanctuary with a wallpaper that makes me feel at home to begin blogging and browsing for inspiration and perhaps that, would make it easier to be in touch (consistently) with the ones that (still, incredibly) try to be in touch. c)clothing, clothing that fits my body as it is now that it is not being starved to death by stimulants perhaps the clothing could make me feel attractive, beautiful, put together good enough approachable without a new wardrobe, I urgently need to lose the 30 pounds I've gained to fit into the old (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) d)money, just money$$$ I could deep condition my hair to feel better because it’s not long and beautiful the way it was I could buy buy buy (my thoughts disgust me) shoes, boots, sunglasses, stuff— (armor) for New York because I feel like I, as I am, am not good enough cool enough smart enough passionate enough free spirited enough artisticly driven enough to be in New York (and adderall calls, and adderall calls) and to see Lykke Li what a dream come true (adderall doesn’t like the idea of not accompanying me on the pursuit of my dreams, ((while secretly distracting me from them))) and so adderall calls, adderall calls—— voicemail a whisper: “adder,all or nothing†I often feel stressed, overwhelmed, stuck, too small, incapable and these feelings are so hard to fight, as I am weary and I am lonely plagued by fatigue, hopelessness. (can my mind really change these things?) I am lacking motivation, because I am lacking a motive I am lacking self esteem, because I feel I have lost myself It is difficult for me to engage in conversation with friends with family with strangers coworkers socially stunted by the haze that surrounds my sense of self and my view of life. But faith, we only need faith the size of a mustard seed "If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you." A mustard seed < a pill but faith, > infinite amounts of pills