Fuccinjas - JAaS!

Tweakaaa tweakaa!🖤

I dont want anything except to chill and get high. Why does sex always have to be a part of it???? I host, you supply.

choose life? I'd rather choose heroin.

I need this stash necklace you don’t understand!!🥺😭someone help a bitch out

I’m so alone all of time I don’t have anyone. Maybe it’s me this time. Maybe it is my fault. I’m trying not to think of the worst thing but I am. I miss twisting the pipe. I miss the dope in my rig. It’s hard to go back to the life I left behind bc I’m the only one left every one else left. They were tired of waiting on me. I get it now.

Dude I feel this shit in my soul going through it man

If I relapse

If I relapse, I would lose everything I worked so hard to obtain in the last couple of months. I would not feel the weight of the world, but I would feel an intense wave of disappointment from the ones I love the most. I would let everybody down - I would let myself down. If I take even one xanax bar, I would begin a slow downhill spiral.

 Xanax would turn into cocaine and cocaine would turn into a sheet of crumpled foil in my hand. On the foil would lay goopy yellow chunks of fentanyl, and my fingers would be stained black. My mental health would plummet and I would dive deep into insanity. Once my parents figured out that I have relapsed, they would cut me off financially and I would be left on the streets. My boyfriend would be done with me, and he would break my heart and tell me to leave him alone forever. Without his presence a hole would grow deep within the depths of my heart. I would fill that hole with men and drugs. Since I would be screwed financially, my only option is to leech off of men.

A junkie would whisk me away to his dingy apartment. He would feed me any drug I desired. He would treat me like shit, perhaps even abuse me. I would let him treat me negatively because I would think, “I deserve this.” My hopes and dreams would fade into oblivion. Every day would be the same: Wake up, find drugs, get high, go to sleep. Over and over again. Monotony and chaos. My family would grieve as if I were dead. Hope would dwindle as I twist the pipe. Hope would lessen as I would hold a tooter in between my chapped lips. Hope would decrease as I would snort white powder up my nostrils. The bright light that used to shine on my life would turn to pitch black,

Eventually, I would be dead. True blackness would envelope my gloomy soul. There would be no coming back from death - no more chances, no more rehab, no more therapy, no more meetings. Hope would truly be lost.

I can’t relapse. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t

When your pipe changes colors 🌑❤