Shady▲ @shadymcfly - Tumblr Blog

2p-c

televisional

tinglingpeter

Neo Yokio: Pink Christmas (2018)

sicksicksick

Nikon One Touch 35mm (1986)

unexplained-events

Mickey Mouse gas mask for children WWII.

goodtime555

c0smicinsignificance

“When I was eleven I stole my mom’s xanax Prescribed for anxiety Covered up as a solution for a pinched nerve No one told me the depth at which illness runs through my veins Too sensitive, too weak, too negative Anxious, depressed, paranoid– Terms never mentioned above a hushed whisper Sixth grade I swallowed pills that weren’t mine Surfed the internet on my iPod touch for different ways to deliver the chemicals When I was twelve I started snorting modafinal Lifted from my fathers medicine cabinet Too tired to handle with care Crushed between two spoons That year brought notebooks filled with masterpieces Written in languages I could not understand in the morning Thirteen brought study drugs My brothers adderall carrying me through an accelerated math program far beyond my capabilities The learning disabilities I was unaware of could not hold me down after a few blue lines At fourteen years old OxyContin was a lifeline to which I clung Surgery after surgery my mom was too busy recovering to manage her pills At school the vocab word of the week was insufflate Fifteen brought trauma as I led a pure life into my line of recreation She stole her mom’s pills too We took everything we could find Chasing a feeling she didn’t know and I couldn’t describe Sixteen brought weed and alcohol and Selling adderall in Spanish class To fund the steady stream of opioids and benzodiazepines I needed to keep my hands from shaking Heartbreak and new love came with seventeen A new love to share my passion with She blew lines of oxy off my ass on our first date And Rubbed the leftover powder on my gums Taught me to do blow off of CD’s in my driveway She carried a rolled-up dollar bill in her wallet Always ready for the next hit I loved her And she shattered me Eighteen ended the cycle and A new lover kept me high on marijuana High enough to let down my walls But not enough to stop the shaking Sharing bowls in the backseat of his car Blunt walks on the beach He hates when I tasted like cigarettes Antidepressants stimulants and downers With my name on them Rot on my nightstand As I try to make peace with an addiction recommended by a Psychiatrist”

— I don’t care if I’m damaged, honestly I think I’m just bored