Skyscraper

This week was my first week of outpatient. Maybe I should say this week was my first week of torture. My parents say I am lucky it is outpatient, but I guess we see differently. I would be in inpatient, but my parents want me to finish up my summer classes at the local community college. My therapist, at the clinic, wants me to journal since I am "unresponsive" during sessions. To be honest, if that cloud of blackmail (inpatient) wasn't over my head I would just write:

 "FUCK REHAB. I think this is stupid, I think you are stupid. You can suck a fat one for all I care. Give up now, this is who I am. I am not changing."

So let's start at the beginning. I go to outpatient every day of the week from the butt crack of dawn till 6 or 7 each night. There is a lot of stuff going on each day, but my day consist of sitting in a chair starring through the person looking back at me. I don't say a word and I don't listen to a word. That's why my therapist says I am "unresponsive". Truth be told, I used to trust people but times change. People change. Now I believe in every man for themselves and survival of the fittest. When you open up to someone, you run the chance of getting hurt. Being numb is better, being high is better.

Continuing on, when I leave the clinic I am either dropped off at the community college or taken home. Most of the time I rather go to school. There are people there...normal people. If I go home I do my homework, or pretend to be doing homework, just so I can be left alone. By the time everyone goes to sleep waves of uncontrollable emotions are crashing down. Typically anger or sadness. If I am lucky I can find someone to deliver some Molly or Coke. The only down side is I have been caught a couple times. They are saying if I keep failing my daily drug test I wont be allowed to leave. I am not going to live there, I rather run away.

Since I haven't had much contact with the outside world, my "best friends" are hard to come by. I have already been feeling the effects. I am always moody and I feel sick all the time. It's almost as if my body is punishing me for not giving them treats like I used too. Fighting this is impossible. My body, my mind are set on what they want. Drugs. One of the hardest things to deal with sober are the emotions. I am not longer numb. Not only am I not numb, but I am alone.

My best friend lives 500 miles away. Texting and calling someone are great, but knowing they can't truly do anything is difficult. Here at home, I am alone. I have friends. Well, I wouldn't actually call them friends, just people that all want the same thing: to get high. I don't have that person to go to anymore, or to encourage me to do the right thing. I lost all of those people when I lost myself. Don't get me wrong, family is great, but there is something about knowing this person isn't forced to be there. They don't have to care, but they do.

So maybe my first journal should say:

" I want a friend. I want a friend that cares about me. I want to be good enough for someone to stick around."

Song of the week for me is Demi Lovato - Skyscraper