I think I might fucking actually do it this time. I was sober for a couple days, this weekend, and then I picked up and smoked an entire gram somehow, and now here I am. There’s always a sort of false spring before the real Hell of detoxing off meth begins, bhhhhuuuut it’s always easier when I do that couple days off, couple days on thing.

I can’t actually think of a single fucking thing I like about meth. Even fucking fentanyl and heroin I can think of things I like about that shit.

I also destroyed my relationship with them. If you’ve been following my posts at all you know who they are.

I still think about them, when I’m sober. It’s stupid but it feels kinda like we were sort of perfect for each other—I’d say we were meant to be together if I believed in that shit—and I ruined it because I smoked so much fucking meth that everything including them became a fucking joke or something.

I hope I’ll see them again. That hope is the only thing that really keeps me going. That I’ll see them again, and they won’t be embarrassed of their teeth when they smile, and they’ll show me things they like on YouTube for an hour straight. I wish I could tell you their name or show you a photo of them. Just saying their name to myself, in my head, makes my heart flutter. And a mutual friend—the one who used to park next to them, who could save me if only she’d fucking call them and get back in touch—said we would be “cute together” and I don’t think I’m just being silly when I believe it.

So yeah, let’s see how long this lasts.