No one’s talked to James. He’s taking Jamaica’s death pretty bad. I’m going to call him and see if I can get him to a meeting.

He's not answering…

I’ll keep calling and texting…

January 28th, 2009

I switched out of AP Environmental. I’m in Integrated Science. It’s mostly freshman and retards. The teacher comes around and stamps our papers in green ink that says “SUPER JOB!” “GREAT WORK!” like we are 12. 

Please kill me, just kill me.

This shit is too much for me sometimes, I just can’t stand it. Like, really? I was smoking crack not so long ago. Using is normal for me. A lot of people say, “Oh wow, you’ve been through so much, this must be a lot easier.” No. Using, lying, cheating and stealing are easy for me. This life is foreign. Even with 10 months clean I’m more comfortable in disease than I am in recovery. Homework, college applications, it’s just weird to me. I’m getting better though.

We had sponsee meeting last night. My sponsor, The Mad Russian is so awesome. He's helped me so much. My sponsor and all my sponsee brothers meet once a month. We start each meeting just like a normal meeting, we start with a prayer and we end with a prayer. It's pretty cool. Every month I look forward to it. We were sitting around in a circle and I was talking about Jamaica’s death, and even though I was talking about it I couldn’t feel anything. It’s like it didn’t happen. I was saying how I couldn’t believe he died because he was so young, and The Mad Russian started laughing, “You think the disease of addiction gives a fuck how old you are?”

That really hit me, you know. 

The Mad Russian… he’s… got a way with words.