abuse of drugs

An Outside Perspective

I was on the bus earlier today and sat behind this guy who had a can of alcohol that he was sipping from. I didn’t think much of it except how much cheaper alcohol is than dope and that I wouldn’t mind a nice, fat shot of some afghan brown or china white. The guy then gets up to stand in front of the doors so he can get off at the stop we’re approaching when all of a sudden he turns around and lunges towards the window and spews projectile vomit at the cars passing us. Everybody’s staring and I’m so happy I moved down to the seat on the other end of the bus before he sprayed alcohol and stomach juices at everything in front of him. When he’s done, he slams the window closed in frustration and maybe even despair and the second he turns around to walk off the bus and light a cigarette, I realize I know him.

He was this guy I spoke to at my last detox about a year ago. He had scars on his arm from the years he spent self harming and was trying to cleanse himself of alcohol and heroin before it was too late. He acted tough and like he didn’t give a fuck about anything but chilling and having fun with some bottles and blunts. But that was a lie or else he wouldn’t have been in there with me. We never spoke or saw each other again after those few grueling days, but I thought about him every now and again. Not because he was cute or charming or anything like that, but just because he stuck out in my memories. He was different but pretended to be the same.

And when I saw him on that bus, I felt this deep sadness in my chest. Like how awful it must be to be him, to be broken and alone and still so addicted. I remember those feelings and how awful they were. The days and nights I spent dope sick, either rejected from detox or just went AMA, throwing up on trains and buses - just like him, homeless and hurting. It’s been a year and he’s still in the same spot, most likely worse than before.

And me? I’ve been clean for almost a year and I am so grateful for that because living that kind of life isn’t really living at all, it’s just existing with this constant pain and despair. I didn’t want that big shot of dope anymore because nostalgia is a liar. There’s not much good with using dope, it’s mostly just fucked up experiences and vicious cycles that get you nowhere but dead.

i am really uncomfortable w ‘big’ blogs making light of their self-destructive tendencies + excessive drug abuse )): it seems irresponsible asfuck but thas jus my humble onion

anonymous asked:

Can we get a face reveal of Ezekiel? (From your charahub if you don't remember)

Ezekiel was raised in a broken home for the majority of his life. His parents were abusive and drug addicts, and somehow never got caught raising a kid. The abuse from home was channeled into bullying people at high school. Now, Claus was one of his main targets. The fact he was a quiet kid who doodles ‘naked fags’ (Which was really just anatomy practice and people without dongs) in his sketchbook made Claus an easy prey. When Zeke gave Isobel a bloody nose during lunch, and Claus. Just. Snapped.

The fight Claus put up went viral, and managed to scare off Ezekiel for a few weeks. With the heart of a lion, Claus approached Ezekiel the next day at lunch and finally got him to talk like a civilized person. Telling bits and pieces of his sob story seemed to help a little, and Claus, the person who’d pack extra lunches and help him study for tests, soon became the object of Ezekiel’s affection.

Claus found out about the broken leg Zeke’s dad gave him, and scrounged up commission money to pay for it. Zeke got his first kiss on the top of a field when Claus told him he got the surgery payed for and medical papers sorted out.


((Zeke has dark hair, silver eyes, and he’s pale af

Mun Vannah made a cool eye chart for his moods too

Silver: Normal//Green: Scared//Golden: In love/arousal))

anonymous asked:

I would abuse drugs too if I was as ugly as you. I suggest you take large doses of heroin and just kill yourself. The world wouldn't miss you and you wouldn't have to look at your ugly face and disgusting body everyday. Think about it you piece of shit.

Wow buddy thats harsh. Well i hope the hate in your heart is replaced with serenity and kindness.

please help me

i really hate doing this i really really do but it’s come to the point where i physically, emotionally and mentally cannot take it anymore.

my family physically, emotionally and mentally abuses me.

long story short, i live in an abusive household. my parents are forcing me into debt by threatening me to go to university (when my job career path does not call for it). 

i cannot come out, i am not safe. they do not believe in mental illness and have THREATENED ME (physically as well) if i chose to take medication (which i desperately need for my mental illnesses, i still take it even with the backlash from my parents). they have threatened to kick me out and block my bank card and phone if i do not go to school, even when i dont need and and they make me take a ridiculous amount of classes, hence digging my own grave of debt. ALSO, adding to the school thing. i will have NO INSURANCE AND NO FINANCIAL AID (if i drop out) for my mental and physical illnesses in which i need medication for.

basically, im living in a house that in inhibiting me from transitioning, draining me of all my money and forcing me through an expensive education and debt and threatening me to do so . im sorry if this isnt making sense but im so tired and stressed.

i’ve done my part though, i have gone to school (from highschool, summer classes and university without a break), kept up my grades, DROPPED ALCOHOL AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE, i am now straight edge (this has saved me tons of money and has helped my emotional state tremendously, ive spent more time being productive and less time in the hospital and in therapy which also costs money) and even gotten 2 JOBS. i do commissions and i work COUNTLESS HOURS at mcdonalds, unfortunately because i have mcdonalds, my parents are now trying to make me pay for EVERYTHING, even things they want, and i really REALLY CANT AFFORD THAT.

my goal is to move out into the apartment with my boyfriend @animeadult and our awesome friend @cruciphix by april. however, my family has already drained my first paycheck and yet they take it out on me (even though it wasn’t a lot in all honesty, it was a lot to ME), ive been trying to earn DOUBLE by taking in more commissions and snagging as many hours as i can from mcdonalds.

im so tired and so desperate to leave my abusive family, and find a way to pursue my transition in a safe environment for me physically, emotionally and mentally. i genuinely apologize that it has come to this but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you can 

please donate to my paypal, its kaidenmichaels@gmail.com

and if u cant please spread this i just need to get out so badly i need to leave i really need to leave please help me.

if anything i will send a small drawing to those who donate as a thankyou, and you can even commission me its the same paypal just please.

i really need help and i know tumblr is a great place to go when someone needs it.

thank you for reading this and please share for me.

Sometimes its not only about being addicted to drugs, sometimes its also about being scared. You become so wrapped up and consumed in drugs you forget how to live a normal life. You isolate yourself from the world only surrounding yourself with other drug users. At first your having the time of your life, Not even realizing your pushing the rest of the world out. Eventually the party stops. Now you find yourself struggling to live a normal life, whatever that even is..
You don’t remember what it was like to go out on a “date” or out with friends on the weekends. You keep searching for that happiness you got out of life before you did drugs. Your mind is so fucked up. You want a normal life but at the same time you can’t remember what was so great about it? What did you do for fun?
You become scared. Lost. And drugs seem to be the only thing keeping you going.

As a child I was taught to believe addicts are somehow “bad people.” However, now that I am white-knuckling through my own sobriety and recovery, I am finding these so-called “bad people” are my soulmates. Addicts are remarkable people. Addicts fight a war within themselves every single day. Addicts are stereotyped and discriminated against. Addicts are beaten down and made to believe they are weak. With all odds against them, addicts do live healthy lives in recovery, and for that, I am grateful.

If you make fun of addicts online, you are a piece of shit. It’s not funny to make fun of people who are struggling with addiction. I’m sick and tired of seeing videos on YouTube of people who are “visibly” addicts getting publicly humiliated and ridiculed. I see the comment sections of videos like that and am sickened. Some people truly forget that the people they are ridiculing in the “smackhead nodding out on bus” or “crack whore in Walmart” videos are real people. Addicts are human beings. We deserve to be treated with respect. We deserve basic human rights.

Addiction is a disease. Being an addict doesn’t make you a bad person. You are not a good person because you don’t do drugs. You’re definitely not a good person if you make fun of sick people who are struggling with a disease.

I hate when people refer to my drug addiction as “partying”. The party stopped long ago before the addiction began, it hasn’t been partying since the very beginning  of my drug use. I may be high, but it isn’t fun anymore, certainly no where near a damn party. I need to invade my veins with smack and my lungs with crack just to function normally enough to start my day.  My life is consumed by addiction. Partying is a part of most peoples lives at some points on weekends or late nights, addiction is such a massive part of my life that when the weekend ends and the night turns to day I’m still trapped in the brutal cycle of drug addiction, this is no fucking party, it’s a nightmare.
—  journal entry 11-13-16

I used to think addicts were those kids who wanted to rebel, be different, I thought it was defiance more than sickness.
Until I was pushing my body past the rails on the balcony of a 10 story building with my arms held out, shaking, begging the wind to take me with it, wondering why the fuck I couldn’t just be more like everybody else, or a little more normal.
I used to think addiction was my father drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and as he’d get louder and my hands covered my ears I would scream, scream until I saw blankness in his eyes followed by the painful blows to my body. I was conditioned to believe addiction would not kill you, it would just torture the others around you,
I used to think addiction was normal, I was neglected to be informed that there were worse things out there than alcohol.
Until one night I stopped at a friends house and he scooted some white lines on his mirror toward me with a razor blade and I began to lose myself in the most ugly way.
I used to think addiction was simple, easy, not a threat to my future
Until I was seizing on the floor of my best friends house, no one home, cardiac arrest. No job, no home, no belongings, not in school, no trust, no love.
I used to think dope was just smoking some weed
Until I found the best monster of them all and I let it consume me, made myself willing to die for it, lie for it, cry for it.
I used to be better, used to smile without faking it, until ice turned me cold and weakened my soul.
-drug journals

Recovery is a conscious choice. It’s not something brought about by repeat hospital visits and pills and forced therapy sessions. Those things only supplement it. But what recovery really is, is a conscious choice to wake up tomorrow and want to live. It’s a choice to drive across a bridge and not want to jump into the water, but to admire the view.
—  anonymous