So What's One More Excuse? I Guess I Just Like the Abuse.
This place is a hole.
I walked toward the rehabilitation center with my bags, I brought my needle and some heroin.
I'm going to need something to keep me from dying of boredom in this hole.
There was an older lady, kind of short and maybe a little overweight waiting inside.
She was the woman who was going to check my bags and bring me to my room.
I probably looked a little nervous, she gave me a look that made me kind of scared, and opened my bag to find a shitload of heroin and a needle.
She used her radio things, whatever it was, and they took my drugs and my needle away and gave me my bag.
I guess Rehab isn't the best place to try and sneak heroin into.
The short lady didn't say anything, she looked at me and started walking toward a room.
It was kind of nice looking, do they really think we need desks and beautiful leather chairs?
'is this my room?' I asked the lady.
'Of course not. This is the phsycologist's room. All new visitors are obligated to speak with him so he knows what level of addiction you are at, and how to treat it.'
She told me to sit down, so I did.
I'm not telling him anything.
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I told him everything. I don't know why. This man was just so easy to talk to. He probably took courses about how to make people feel comfortable with him.
He said that sometimes in an abusive relationship, like mine with heroin, we need to end it.
HA!
I'm in my room right now. It's big and greay, I have a bed and that's it.
I'm in with another heroin addict.
He's a bit older, scarier.
He's actually here to get better.
I don't understand why he wants to be in here.
This place is a fucking hole.
I'm going to need something to keep me from dying of boredom in this hole.
There was an older lady, kind of short and maybe a little overweight waiting inside.
She was the woman who was going to check my bags and bring me to my room.
I probably looked a little nervous, she gave me a look that made me kind of scared, and opened my bag to find a shitload of heroin and a needle.
She used her radio things, whatever it was, and they took my drugs and my needle away and gave me my bag.
I guess Rehab isn't the best place to try and sneak heroin into.
The short lady didn't say anything, she looked at me and started walking toward a room.
It was kind of nice looking, do they really think we need desks and beautiful leather chairs?
'is this my room?' I asked the lady.
'Of course not. This is the phsycologist's room. All new visitors are obligated to speak with him so he knows what level of addiction you are at, and how to treat it.'
She told me to sit down, so I did.
I'm not telling him anything.
----------------------------------------------------------------
I told him everything. I don't know why. This man was just so easy to talk to. He probably took courses about how to make people feel comfortable with him.
He said that sometimes in an abusive relationship, like mine with heroin, we need to end it.
HA!
I'm in my room right now. It's big and greay, I have a bed and that's it.
I'm in with another heroin addict.
He's a bit older, scarier.
He's actually here to get better.
I don't understand why he wants to be in here.
This place is a fucking hole.