i am sitting at my computer reading about prescription pill abuse.
i like reading about prescription pill abuse, the stories are interesting to me.
can any interested, cynical, sarcastic, funny readers comment with their personal stories of prescription pill abuse? or just prescription pill use, it doesn't have to be abuse. i think i want some stories about xanax, restoril and prozac mostly.
(two things could happen now: either two hundred people reply, or nobody replies. kendra grant malone, i want you to reply. you said something funny about prescription pill abuse on your blog a while ago, i think that you would do a funny reply.)
4 comments:
Two things:
1. "i am trying to write a short film script, and last night just before i went to sleep i thought of a whole dialogue which i really liked, and then thought, "i am too tired to type this, i will type it tomorrow morning" and now i have forgotten it all. "
I used to do this all the time. I force myself to write it down, now. It doesn't happen as often.
2. My father takes a lot of prescription pain medicine. He takes large amounts, but still functions well. The medication never has cut through his pain entirely, even with him taking Oxycontin and taking a lot of it every day. He used to take something like sixteen pills of it a day, and that still wasn't enough.
This isn't funny, really, just kind of "wild" or "outrageous". I don't know.
you little fucker. i was all just reading this blog, la-de-da, and i thought, i should comment, i do a lot of drugs and then i read on to find i've been called out- requested. now i feel self conscience, like i must seem like a maniac pill zombie (i am). moving on.
i take a lot of pills. for one, i am sickly. i am almost always sick. a bad immune system. also, i have wanted to die as long as i can remember being alive, which is not so much a depression thing, as it is a brain defect. a lot of people have a natural impulse to stay alive. most do i think. my family tells me stories all the time about my suicidal baby antics. this wanting-to-die-ness is always effecting my brain, but really only surfaces when i have anxiety and it seems like a great idea.
the problem is i love my mom. she is small and swedish. she has had a very sad and hard life. she already lost one child a long time ago, and the thought of how she would react to her funny little suicidal baby dying makes me seriously close to puking. so this cannot happen. also, i worry about who would take care of my cat, delores, because she is kinda mean and no one likes her. so i take pills! lots of em! tons! now i am happy! and stable! and productive! but my anti-d's make me feel a little stoned and yuck, so i need to balance with lots of caffeine, followed by gross amounts of booze, sleeping pills, and frequently all sorts of prescription pain killers i get from my pops (sometimes he gives them to me, sometimes i borrow them). i dont smoke weed or do any street drugs really. i dont trust the stuff. although im doing acid with my roommate later this week.
i grew up in the suburbs.
I LOVE KENDRA
I could discuss this with you, but I don't really want to do so in public blog comments. Email me if you're interested: Benzino521@yahoo.com
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