I’ve noticed as of late that my ability to socialize has diminished, whether it be my lack of interest in mundane engagement or I’m simply a bit rusty at callous conversation. The fact I am will always remain a junkie at heart. What precisely does that entail, well lets see. One acquires/requires junk for a varied degree of reasoning, as the “inner self searchers” would call it, a coping mechanism for asocial archetypes. But really junk squanders in my opinion over 3 varying degrees of personalities. The first being the shallow, soulless types who junk finds on its own in an attempt to neutralize an otherwise dangerous sociopath, in that sense, junk is a savior of humanity. Jungian archetypes were never so prevalent in these ultra humans who spend their days fucking people over in a every sense of the word, their moral compass off by many a degree. The second junkie personality is that of the sweet innocent kitten whose heart is much too big for the BIG BAD WORLD. The first type would describe this sort in a much more rudimentary manner…useless cunt and mentality inferior. Perhaps those dropped on the head a bit much as babies but this fortuitous tragedy may have unintentionally saved them from the suffering the fate of the first sort…or worse yet the third sort, which I reluctantly place myself in at many times. This second sort are usually lovers of animals and small children, the sort that prefer victimless crimes to ones where it involves human suffering unless of course they absolutely have to or are otherwise outsmarted by the others sort and hence tricked into doing so. These poor souls are too stupid to pick something else besides heroin, they do it because it feels good and really for nothing more, and although the ever forgiving god may pardon their souls on account of their stupidity, they may never find piece in their lifetime without turning to religious fanaticism, the other opiate society provides for us poor fringe characters. Which leaves us the last sort of junkie I categorize in my glorious Heroin trinity of wild jungle animals. This is the worse sort, the misanthrope, the slightly above average intelligence, slightly above average looks, capable enough of feigning normal behavior and “fitting in” but who harbors a general disdain for all humanity being just smart enough to realize how useless and pointless their lives are but not quite able to understand the true meaning of life….ergo choosing in truly a brilliant way the inevitable choice all of us junkies eventually go for…That life is decidedly better on the scag than off, truly the only real problems one has when being a junkie revolve around it running out. Really I don’t see myself personally fitting into any one of these boots but I undoubtedly do. Heroin is a solution to a problem, the very definition of medicine, it gives meaning to this last sort, whom find a new lust for life with the junkie lifestyle, and believe me when I say that done properly it is a life style all to its own, a full time job one that defines and consumes your very nature in a sick and beautiful way knitting together all manner of cunts that on a normal basis would have nothing to do with each other. People who on more sober circumstances would rip each other apart like rabid dogs on account of their deep rooted differences, prejudices, preconceptions, race, sex, age, ideology. I suppose that’s the beauty of junk, it gives fuck all about ideology and strips everyone down to the same level of unifying conviction to one singular cause, the quest for the ultimate hit and the survival of the eternal high. Everything these nine to five types care about, furthering education, to obtain better cars better clothes, clean living and “fitting in” to accepted society seems far more survival of the fittest to me. Much more Darwinian only with a yuppie mind set in an Orwellian backdrop. You see as a junkie you expect your friends to rip you off, it be quite odd if you didn’t, no matter how many times it happens you can rest assure that within no time they would be sitting near each other rig in hand, sailing the calm seas of the SS NOD. Ah a beautiful life it would be were not for that normal world, always meddling and interfering, all those nosy self help types or worse yet those churchy folk thinking that they are doing you a favor but really it’s a about jealousy, you see they cant stand the fact that you’ve found a way to be happier than them and it didn’t cost you lifetime of hardship and strenuous effort…well maybe it did, but at least you were high most of the way. You see while those other types are trying to muster whatever pleasure they can find through their DIY Sunday, you are an invariable agent of pleasure, your brain is constantly bombarded with instant gratification, one that those “normal” types only feel for a brief three seconds post coitous in their once a moth pity fuck and even then you secretly know that they are no where close to what you strive to feel on a daily basis for as much of the day as they can handle. See most outsiders think that we junkies stay in one meditative position due to the effect of the narcotic itself, this is a common misconception, the truth is the narcotic is little more than an aid, the true magic lies in the trance like state we react to the junk, we are in a rudimentary sense praying to the god of junk, singing quietly his praise and receiving his joyous love, as the warm blanket falls from the divine point atop our cranium as it passes each nerve receptor to the ends of our toes and works its way back up again in slow waves. Junkie yoga, we are all tapping into that natural number of pain, pain of the soul, pain of the body and mind…the cure for the human condition. Perhaps this is why the Germans christened it HEROICSH…it really is heroic in that sense, our little savior in a syringe.   You see we are just like you searching for the same things, only we are more honest about it and decidedly committed to not wasting our time beating around the bush, we rather mainline the truth of existence…after all we don’t have the time to waste like you people…unlike you we’ve got junk to score, and as I said before it’s a full time business.

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