Addict: Setting the World on Fire
Entry 6
Dear Someone,
Sorry for not writing you-who-is-no-one in a while. I’ve been caught up in a Jack the Ripper book. What he did was amazing. I mean, few people understand that crime is an art. Whether someone is good at their art or horrible at it is all very much up to the artist. Oh, he was an utter genius.
A psychotic genius, but a genius none the less.
The book was written by Patricia Cornwell and titled: Portrait of a Killer; Jack the Ripper: Case Closed. It’s a really interesting book, I think. Mom tried reading it before, but didn’t get too far ‘cause boredom struck her. I think I’m actually glad Sickert get away with everything he did. And his Ripper rampage could not have come at a better time. The police were so not ready for him. The Perfect Crime.
But only Sickret will have the pleasure of such violent murders and get away with them. police forensics now-a-days are pretty thorough and don’t miss too much.
But they only recognize when they’ve seen before.
Red rum. Sain. Sick. Sane, sain. Sick and Sain.
It’s comfortable here. It’s a horror show, a chainsaw circus, and a fever I can’t sweat out. I like it. Someone, do you know what and/or where ‘it’ is?
You have to think, Someone. I can’t tell you because you won’t believe until you figure it out for yourself.
Someone, I use to abuse prescription drugs. I would abuse alcohol, but I can’t steal wine bottles without them going unnoticed. I had a little bottle of whiskey, though, and I went to church drunk. I nearly passed out on the Youth Minister’s office floor. But pills were my thing. Pain killers. Sleep aids. Just about anything in mom’s orange cylinders.
I never knew what the max dosage my body could take of pain meds, but it can take well over 3,600 milligrams. But, then again, I wasn’t using the heavy stuff. I just wanted to ease my mind and body. I couldn’t operate the following couple of days.
I never got addicted to the stuff, mainly because there was no real link of dependency. It was just a matter of ‘Okay, I’ll stop now’. But I still look up at my headboard and see that Altoids can. Maybe I could take just one more… or two more, or all of those fucking pills. Dump the entire thing down my throat, turn off the lights, put on some music and wait for whichever would come first: sleep or the high.
All I know is that I could be utterly relaxed, like a good dosage of Xanax or something.
Then I could just… sleep. Just sleep.
Sorry for not writing you-who-is-no-one in a while. I’ve been caught up in a Jack the Ripper book. What he did was amazing. I mean, few people understand that crime is an art. Whether someone is good at their art or horrible at it is all very much up to the artist. Oh, he was an utter genius.
A psychotic genius, but a genius none the less.
The book was written by Patricia Cornwell and titled: Portrait of a Killer; Jack the Ripper: Case Closed. It’s a really interesting book, I think. Mom tried reading it before, but didn’t get too far ‘cause boredom struck her. I think I’m actually glad Sickert get away with everything he did. And his Ripper rampage could not have come at a better time. The police were so not ready for him. The Perfect Crime.
But only Sickret will have the pleasure of such violent murders and get away with them. police forensics now-a-days are pretty thorough and don’t miss too much.
But they only recognize when they’ve seen before.
Red rum. Sain. Sick. Sane, sain. Sick and Sain.
It’s comfortable here. It’s a horror show, a chainsaw circus, and a fever I can’t sweat out. I like it. Someone, do you know what and/or where ‘it’ is?
You have to think, Someone. I can’t tell you because you won’t believe until you figure it out for yourself.
Someone, I use to abuse prescription drugs. I would abuse alcohol, but I can’t steal wine bottles without them going unnoticed. I had a little bottle of whiskey, though, and I went to church drunk. I nearly passed out on the Youth Minister’s office floor. But pills were my thing. Pain killers. Sleep aids. Just about anything in mom’s orange cylinders.
I never knew what the max dosage my body could take of pain meds, but it can take well over 3,600 milligrams. But, then again, I wasn’t using the heavy stuff. I just wanted to ease my mind and body. I couldn’t operate the following couple of days.
I never got addicted to the stuff, mainly because there was no real link of dependency. It was just a matter of ‘Okay, I’ll stop now’. But I still look up at my headboard and see that Altoids can. Maybe I could take just one more… or two more, or all of those fucking pills. Dump the entire thing down my throat, turn off the lights, put on some music and wait for whichever would come first: sleep or the high.
All I know is that I could be utterly relaxed, like a good dosage of Xanax or something.
Then I could just… sleep. Just sleep.