Black coffee

IT'S 1:57AM. Some coffee I drank went straight to my head. I only drank 2 cups, several hours apart. I thought it was meant to be good to drink coffee, because it's not alcohol. How come it has to disagree with me so..?? I felt more energized than euphoric and my mood plunged down. I found myself posting in somebody's comments about female drug addicts who have babies and the whole issue is too depressing for words. And I wish I hadn't posted up my thoughts about death and dying here. It all seems incredibly childish, I know. I don't know what else I would have posted though.

Tomorrow there is a Narcotics Anonymous meeting I can get to easily. So I'm probably going. I can't see any future in using heroin. Why on earth I ever started it, I'm not sure. That is a stupid thing to do.

I wish I would sleep, but it probably won't happen for a while. I feel like I've got a crack comedown: depressed and wiry at the same time. I never was a big crackhead. The effects of that stuff are so negative it was never something I wanted to have a big part in my life. I only say I was "addicted" to it in that I found it hard to kick it completely. For a long time I only bought one £10 rock a week ~ that's the smallest rock you can usually buy. I have barely any good memories of heroin and none at all of crack.

I lived in a crackhouse for a few years and saw what it does to heavy users. Even when it doesn't send people clinically psychotic it leaves lives in far worse tatters than heroin does. In fact I'd say that in the short time that I speedballed and smoked it heavily, it erased the small amount of joy that was left in the life of a heroin addict. It's nasty, nasty stuff; I wish I had never gone near it.

O well: tomorrow is another day.

PS: I just realized ~ methadone dose overdue. Dur. Hey I might sleep now...