How did I get here

ALTERNATIVE TITLE WAS: ALL OVER PLACE am I supposed to fulfill Gledwood Going Mad Entertainment Quotient?

Met mental health person last night. Who I know. For various reasons wasn't sure. First impressions (not to be nasty, more as in it takes one to know one) proved correct. Sufferer.

Ended up having high old time in car. No drugs. Person said some helpful things.

Things I have been asked this week include Am I piping? No. Though feel as if am/have been full-on £1000s per week ~ v recently). Do not commit suicide. (Why does anyone think I will do that?) etc etc. Worker has been banging on about how much I drink, in nicest possible way. Turning up alcohol-reeking at emergency centre psych thing will lead to a Confused Picture, so I am told.

Also got advised to "watch television".

Got up around 9am. It took me till past one pm to get self, clothes, money, keys, shoes, bags, detergent, empty bottle for drink (not drunk, had only had half can by midday and that left over from last night) blah blah in correct place which is nearly 5 mins from own. Majorstretch of ... ability to do something. Whatever. Probably everybody in there thought I was on drugs as disgorging clothes from huge bags into a machine and attaining correct money in right change which laundrette assistant kindly sorted for me in piles.... Am I turning into grade A cabbage?

I only post so late because getting self, computer and dongle together, computer running, internet on and me posting took till 1940 hrs.

Clothes got both clean and dry. Had gone well past stressing by this time (probably would have run down road screaming/been arrested/sectioned through obviously going off head in public by this time. This is why I say I have to Avoid Stress and basically be Sick (frankly Boring person... akh.) No insult to anyone who might be sick. Because if I don't people think I'm high on something ~ badly ~ or I just go off/otherwise do not cope.

Where was I? No glasses. Relying on blur/touchtype occasional peer at screen. I hate wearing glasses, they get tangled in everything. Lost. Whatever, wherever. Also too vein though nothing to be vein about any longer. Look like old spectre of.... adjectivalness.

Anyway after this got home. Clothes intact. Still in bags. Dry but all over place, creased probably. Long as they're not going black any more, that's OK with me.

So exhausted I slept for so many hours had to entertain Chuck Self off Bridge type fantasies as knew methadone chemist actually open but it was really late, late enough for it to feel chemist should not be open. Was right to bring passport. How did I find this? Don't ask. Yeah I got me, ID, open methadone place. Person dishing out who doesn't know me (hence ID, methadone being full-on drug as far as govt concerned. Wont' get into fact that it is no true substitute for nearly any heroin addict here/now.

I think I know I am crazed because only a truly crazy or desperate person could ever 1. stop taking heroin (even with methadone) 2. not crave heroin at all. (only late into suicide-ideation thing did I realize actually could easily Hold Self by going to old drugs dealers for Heroin which by all accounts isn't as bad as it used to be. (Is this true? No idea.)

Heroin spoons/etc (everywhere) make me vaguely sick with ... what do you call it when you seriously go off something?

Is any of this actually real? Doesn't seem so/as if it ever could be so. Me Heroin Together + How Did I Get Here. Whatastupidquestion. Where is "here"? Quite pertinent question.

Must go. BTW still not really up to vast internet explorations. Am trying. Please no pressure. Can't do it.

Gotta go.

PS got a real entertainment comment yesterday calling me nutter, saying ought to be in mental unit. Quickly adding don't mean to hurt feelings. That's the same sense of humour that makes me make Valerie from Aus so off her rocker.

Nutnut dr tomorrow. Did I say that?