I am The Scorpion Entry 9

October 5, 2008 11:12 p.m-11:21 p.m.

I realized something.

I never get sick.

Not really.

I mean, sniffles and aches and the occasional headache.

But I never get really sick.

Why?

Is this sickness inside of me causing this?

Does it kill off anything that risks overriding its hold on me?

Is it some sort of infection that devours all its enemies?

Is it jealous?

Does it want my full attention?

Or is it fueling itself? Using the would-be sickness to feed its own virus to infect me further?

Maybe I should be thankful, but it’s still unsettling.

Just the random observation of the night.

Moving this week has got me a tad stressed.

I shouldn’t say moving though. That doesn’t bother me.

I’m used to it.

It’s a convenience to have boxes instead of shoving all the possessions I can into a bag and hopping a train.

My Mother is just making it Hell.

I’m smoking like my lungs breathe cancer instead of air.

Maybe that will be the sickness that wins out over this thing inside me.

Here’s to hoping.

I am The Scorpion Entry 3

July 24, 2008 9:56 p.m.-10:10 p.m.

My brain hurts.
I think I’m getting sick.

It always happens when I get like this; when I go to the ‘Nothing Place’.
I stay up as late as I can (or am allowed) then sleep.
I sleep as long as I can; trying to get lost in my dream worlds.

I hate life.

I wish I could just…watch.

But I’m forced to live; eat, sleep, actually survive.
So, I sleep as much as I can.
I don’t do drugs or fuck and I don’t want to bleed away the numbness.
Drugs aren’t an option.
So I sleep.

Is this even making sense?
I can’t tell.
My eyes are burning like I have a fever; my brain feels sick.
I’m reading Heroin Diaries, but I don’t even know if any of it is getting through.
But, I know it is because I’m having day dreams.
Even when awake I dream.
I lose myself.

I was zoning out and I felt a sting in the crook of my elbow and this warmth flooding into me. I looked down at my arm to see what it was- only to realize that I had been dreaming.

It had felt so fucking real.

It wasn’t like the cold ice of a vaccine; no latex slide of gloves against my flesh. It was an almost comforting feel of a calloused, calming hand lightly gripping my forearm; a warm, tingling heat spreading through my veins.

What was being injected into my arm?

Who was holding the needle?

I have my suspicions, but I will leave them unsaid.
If I write them down, I fear these sick dreams will only become more vivid and my obsession with this subject will only get worse.

I’m afraid, yet I am so numb and brainsick I can’t seem to make myself care anymore.

All I can tell you is- if I had been born 20 years ago, I’d sure as shit be a fucking junkie.

(I look back and ask myself why I ‘Drugs aren’t an option’ was in bold, but I’m afraid to answer my own question)