Mad: to be very enthusiastic about someone or something. Exciting. Great; remarkable.
If you cared enough as I did to dig deeper into the many different definitions of the word 'mad', these are what you would've found.
I was quite mad indeed.
Maybe today would go alright, I thought.
Mondays always seemed to go fifty-fifty.
You're going to be the one who decides how today goes, I tell myself. You're the one who is in charge if anything gets to you or not.
I kept thinking about what Manny and Mo had told me about my "kryptonite". It was funny, yeah, but because it was true...
Scratch that. That's exactly why it was funny. I just didn't like it. The whole forever-alone idea dawned on me and my self esteem dropped a couple notches.
Before it had been just 'ratchet women', deemed by Hailey and Hannah to be terrible influences. They were right about that, those girls I hung around would be spitroasted by a couple of college basketball players and then go brag about it like it was an achievement. Not necessarily bad people, just groupie types.
On my way to work I dug into my pockets looking for my Adderall and Xanax.
Holy shit.
I had counted at least twenty pills the night before and now I was staring at exactly six.
Twenty pills, or four-hundred milligrams of amphetamine salts, would suffice for the fifteen days until my next refill.
But six? SIX?!
I took a deep breath. I couldn't become hateful. I couldn't be paranoid. Setting out on a witch-hunt for whatever could have happened to them would've only proved one thing:
I was addicted. That meant, given my history, no one would believe they had actually been stolen.
Anyone who I spoke of it to would think this. It's not like it was unreasonable of them to think so. I'd done it before, anyways.
A thought so dark crept through my mind and held me frozen so still it was like invisible fingers had dug themselves like worms into my spine.
I'd been here before. This predicament.
Sometimes the pills had been stolen. I couldn't hold grudges for that because of two reasons; one, holding onto anger for any reason ate at your heart. Two, the small bottle, uninsured, valued at roughly $900.
Sometimes it had actually been me. But this time, I had no idea when I could've possibly done it.
Maybe thats just how terrible things happen, though. Tiny bits here and there until there's nothing left and you don't know who you are anymore.
Alright, enough about Adderall. Let's talk about Xanax.
Xanax, the pharmaceutical phenomenon denounced by Chance the Rapper as 'the new heroin', possibly the fastest-working benzodiazepine on the market, even dubbed more powerful than Rohypnol, and much, much easier to access happened to sit in my jacket pocket.
A whole lot of it.
If you cared enough as I did to dig deeper into the many different definitions of the word 'mad', these are what you would've found.
I was quite mad indeed.
Maybe today would go alright, I thought.
Mondays always seemed to go fifty-fifty.
You're going to be the one who decides how today goes, I tell myself. You're the one who is in charge if anything gets to you or not.
I kept thinking about what Manny and Mo had told me about my "kryptonite". It was funny, yeah, but because it was true...
Scratch that. That's exactly why it was funny. I just didn't like it. The whole forever-alone idea dawned on me and my self esteem dropped a couple notches.
Before it had been just 'ratchet women', deemed by Hailey and Hannah to be terrible influences. They were right about that, those girls I hung around would be spitroasted by a couple of college basketball players and then go brag about it like it was an achievement. Not necessarily bad people, just groupie types.
On my way to work I dug into my pockets looking for my Adderall and Xanax.
Holy shit.
I had counted at least twenty pills the night before and now I was staring at exactly six.
Twenty pills, or four-hundred milligrams of amphetamine salts, would suffice for the fifteen days until my next refill.
But six? SIX?!
I took a deep breath. I couldn't become hateful. I couldn't be paranoid. Setting out on a witch-hunt for whatever could have happened to them would've only proved one thing:
I was addicted. That meant, given my history, no one would believe they had actually been stolen.
Anyone who I spoke of it to would think this. It's not like it was unreasonable of them to think so. I'd done it before, anyways.
A thought so dark crept through my mind and held me frozen so still it was like invisible fingers had dug themselves like worms into my spine.
I'd been here before. This predicament.
Sometimes the pills had been stolen. I couldn't hold grudges for that because of two reasons; one, holding onto anger for any reason ate at your heart. Two, the small bottle, uninsured, valued at roughly $900.
Sometimes it had actually been me. But this time, I had no idea when I could've possibly done it.
Maybe thats just how terrible things happen, though. Tiny bits here and there until there's nothing left and you don't know who you are anymore.
Alright, enough about Adderall. Let's talk about Xanax.
Xanax, the pharmaceutical phenomenon denounced by Chance the Rapper as 'the new heroin', possibly the fastest-working benzodiazepine on the market, even dubbed more powerful than Rohypnol, and much, much easier to access happened to sit in my jacket pocket.
A whole lot of it.
I kept trying to distract myself SO HARD.
Remember, don't get mad.
My entire body ached from the lack of sleep I'd been running on.
I loved it. Something about staying up for a sequential twenty four hours or more made me feel sharper. Clearer. It was almost like fasting, in a way.
Talking about Adderall and Xanax's dark side made my stomach twist uncomfortably. Their side effects and risks alone were enough to scare any reasonable man. Their comedowns, even when taken as prescribed, were nightmarish to say the least.
If you don't know much about the substances, let me put it into perspective for you without using any neuroscience lingo. Adderall worked by triggering the fight or flight response center of the brain. In short, your adrenal response is triggered. Xanax, on the other hand, metaphorically hushed, and when I say hushed what I really mean is immediately silenced, all of your inhibitions. Put A and B together and you've triggered a burst of adrenaline free of all inhibition.
It sounded like something out of the movies Limitless or Lucy. The only difference was that eventually because of Xanax's nature to supress emotional stimulation and Adderall's disregard of the brains emotionl center caused by its adrenally activated do or die focus intensified by Xanax's obliteration of natural inhibition left most moments devoid of all emotions aside from mania and boundless ambition.
For the power hungry, it was a miracle elixir to rid themselves of the humanity that held them back.
For anyone else, it turned their soul into a fire burning for absolutely no reason yet consuming everything in its path.
I knew I needed to spend time reading and studying the Bible because keeping Christ in all my actions continued to present new challenges each day.
I'd neglected my backpack and started carrying the Bible that Manny gave me in my pocket and started taking notes in my phone instead. I even had the Bible app on my phone but still carried the physical thing with me. Not only did it carry sentiment, it felt kind of cool.
I'd had a great day. Stefany had brought Amelia to see me at work, I'd gone to Big Dog's and UpDown with Emily, had a good time at work, and I had plenty of reasons to be nothing but grateful for all that I'd been blessed with that day.
I truly was greatful; in sharing this blog with everyone I believed would see it, I fought the urge to change the header to not include Christ's name. I didn't.
I didn't argue, either, with the few people who'd refused to read it because they didn't believe in organized religion.
Emily's voice went stern when she heard my pill bottles rattle as she asked what I was doing.
Of course I was only placing the bottles in my jacket pockets.
However, it wasn't true.
I slipped myself another Xanax once she left the room.
Sleep surely would come sweetly. Serene, dark, and cold.
I hadn't sought company anymore.
However, as much as I wanted to feel joyful, I felt like a lunatic.
The next morning, I woke up two hours late for work. To my 4:30 AM alarm.
I opened my bottle to find that the six had become ten, mysteriously overnight. As I readied myself for work, it then sunk back to seven.
It was seven, instead of eight, because in each bite of cereal I begrudgingly crunched and swallowed I felt pangs of disgust and guilt.
I wasn't skinny enough.
Vanity.
Next
For anyone else, it turned their soul into a fire burning for absolutely no reason yet consuming everything in its path.
I knew I needed to spend time reading and studying the Bible because keeping Christ in all my actions continued to present new challenges each day.
I'd neglected my backpack and started carrying the Bible that Manny gave me in my pocket and started taking notes in my phone instead. I even had the Bible app on my phone but still carried the physical thing with me. Not only did it carry sentiment, it felt kind of cool.
I'd had a great day. Stefany had brought Amelia to see me at work, I'd gone to Big Dog's and UpDown with Emily, had a good time at work, and I had plenty of reasons to be nothing but grateful for all that I'd been blessed with that day.
I truly was greatful; in sharing this blog with everyone I believed would see it, I fought the urge to change the header to not include Christ's name. I didn't.
I didn't argue, either, with the few people who'd refused to read it because they didn't believe in organized religion.
Emily's voice went stern when she heard my pill bottles rattle as she asked what I was doing.
Of course I was only placing the bottles in my jacket pockets.
However, it wasn't true.
I slipped myself another Xanax once she left the room.
Sleep surely would come sweetly. Serene, dark, and cold.
I hadn't sought company anymore.
However, as much as I wanted to feel joyful, I felt like a lunatic.
The next morning, I woke up two hours late for work. To my 4:30 AM alarm.
I opened my bottle to find that the six had become ten, mysteriously overnight. As I readied myself for work, it then sunk back to seven.
It was seven, instead of eight, because in each bite of cereal I begrudgingly crunched and swallowed I felt pangs of disgust and guilt.
I wasn't skinny enough.
Vanity.
Next
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