Oooh you're a naughty mess

not sure that the last sentence of my last post was entirely true (viz. that i'm with it (her) for entirely negative reasons)/ there are many positive ones too/ well, a few, and, indeed, more positives than you get in most relationaships/ well, a couple of days/ shit/ yesterday 10 rocks, a bottle of wine, 6 cans K, 3 cans lager (5%) and 3 bags heroin/ oh and about 150mls of methadone/ since i piped most of the rock close to bed, and bedded the self as the sun came up, i got precious little sleep/ was meant to be going shopping for baby clothes this morning but just couldn't get up at the required moment/ thus slept till 1400, swearing for the many hours i lay awake 'never again, never again, &c.'/ but as soon as i got up i was up across the park, with the sincere intention of procuring only 2 bags heroin to relax my paranoid mind/ however, my silver tongue was hijacked by an aspect of my consciousness (one dressed in a rich red suit i believe) though in no way a gaudy suit; pure fucking style)) and i managed to get one of d's excellent white for free/ and what did this begin?/ i'd sworn to myself that would be it, but naturally, with one's white dealer (nay, 'mc-squealer') on one's door step, how, dear reader, can one resist?/try it fucker/ i don't think i have any special (or indeed any) degree of resiliance/ but i really don't care any more/ i've spoiled myriad highs (twain wit, a super-plethora of life moments (a ruined fucking palace of life experiences)) because of paranoia, &c and shall not, motherfucking Not allow myself to destroy myself any more (the self, post-all, being no more than a composite of ones experiences (the self thus perhaps benefiting from self delusion (i've found incisive self realization can be hugely detrimental to ones happiness (nay one's life)