Drink Light

It was day 87 of my sobriety and an unexpected but not unknown sense of relaxation had dominated my nervous system. In the weeks past my DXM trip, my ability not to give a fuck had increased significantly. With such an ability, however, came some consequences:

Stress, I must sometimes realize, pushes us to do things and prioritize our tasks better. The compliment of stress is feeling good about yourself knowing you've disciplined yourself enough to accomplish tasks. The negatives however, could take a toll on you.

I've been getting crazy gains at the gym. The other night these dudes were deadlifting on the squat right, so I tried to butt them out. We agreed to work in sets, and when it was my turn, I felt a strong surge of burning pain go up the back of my next, explode into the back of my head, and start chewing away at the rest of my brain.

It felt like the Hillside Strangler has made me one of his victims, and as I squatted, sent gallons of dead blood into my skull into my brain started to stroke from the lack of oxygen. I blacked out.

When I came to, all I could do is sit. The rest of my workout was not as intense. I grabbed water, and went slower, still having this lingering feeling of someone shaking can of thumbtacks in the back of my eyes.

Next workout two days later I almost blacked out again while bench pressing. Trainer said it could be due to a number of things: Stress, not enough water, food, nutrition, rest, and testosterone.
Before both of those workouts I jacked off and came multiple times before my workout. I usually save it for post-workout relief, as lower testosterone decreases your strength. When I jacked off later that night the same tremendous headache came back, but worse, far worse.
I decided to take a break. Needed time to recover my muscles, get more nutrition, rest more, and not jack off to build more testosterone. The trainer told me that jacking off would halt my fitness progress, as more estrogen leads to beer bellies and bitch-tits.

But it's the last hump I've yet to get over. Jacking off to internet porn.

So on day 87 of my sobriety, chilling on the couch in her South LA apartment, I decided to take it hit. The effect was nothing unfamiliar. I took another hit the next day at Coachella, another hit in the Sahara tent the day after that, and another hit during The Weeknd's sunday sunset show.

After I got back I took a few more hits, throughout the week, up until 4/20, and into Today.

I don't really want to get high, even though I do. The lusts of the flesh are so enticing when loneliness and rejection are experienced.

I really missed her Grape Juice Smile at Coachella. I wish we were still sitting on that Strawberry Swing. It sucked being alone in such a big place, and getting sick, and getting dissed by a musical artist I'd been a fan of for so long. I finally broke down in my tent Friday night realizing that the Coachella dream I had wasn't going to come true this year. Life's hard, but all I can do is enjoy what there is to enjoy, and suffer what there is to suffer.

To know myself and love myself.

I wish I was just a little better at making friends and keeping them.

I arrested my development this week and now I'm finding myself in a holding cell with the usual suspects: gluttony, lust, laziness, overthought, paranoia, and mania.

I don't want to get drunk tonight. What's the point of going to a party when I'm not fulfilled in myself to make myself an enjoyable person to be around?

I just want to drink light.