I started taking phentermine. It’s for weight loss but I really went and got the script because it feels like speed. I don’t feel bad about it.

Yesterday I went to group and the counselor told me she was on it too so I guess we’re both cheating. Maybe she has honest intentions. I just suck.

Of course Phentermine can give off a false positive for amphetamines on a drug test so of course my first thought was that I could pop the vyvanse in my dresser drawer and not really get in trouble. 

I’ve never even taken vyvanse so I don’t know why I thought about it or why I haven’t flushed it yet. 

I don’t know why I haven’t poured out the two bottles of beer in my fridge either. I’m not a big drinker. I think in my two years of bullshit I’ve only taken drinking up once, for a month at most. 

I stopped because my probation officer saw me at the only bar that believed I was 21. 

“You know who else likes going to Luke’s Icehouse? Me. Quit going there.” And I haven’t sat my ass down in that bar since.

Neither of the only two substances in my possession were even intended for me. This girl asked me to get her vyvanse for school and I knew my neighbor had some. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal to get it for her- my neighbor owes me anyways. I’ve given him plenty of needles.

Which is actually how I met him. He showed up at my door around 2 AM one Saturday night asking me what kind of drugs I did. His dog got into my trash and he saw the syringes. I felt stupid after explaining myself to him about my drug use and how I’ve been in and out of recovery since 2015 because the syringes he saw have only ever been used by me for allergy shots.

But because he already knew I definitely used drugs despite not being an IV user, he began to hit me up asking for needles on the weekends. I gave him my number the night he came to my door because if he was going to need more, I’d rather have a heads up of some sort as opposed to being woken up by someone banging on my door after midnight. 

He started texting me weird shit about “Come over when my wife is gone.” The whole super scandalous, super inappropriate shabang. It became even more inappropriate when I realized that he was the step father to a cousin of mine that’s going into the 7th grade this year. She came over and we started talking and I put two and two together and almost shit myself.

I live next to my great grandmother. Three of her daughters live in the surrounding houses. (Her fourth daughter, my grandma, passed last summer and my grandpa isn’t too far from passing as well. I get it though- he hasn’t been okay since my grandma died. He’s got brain and lung cancer but the depression is what’s killing him.) So my aunt’s daughter is married to the man who asks me for needles so he can bang cocaine, all the while trying to bang me. Comical. But I wouldn’t dare tell anyone. Not my cousin, not my aunt, not my great grandmother. It’d cause an unnecessary mess. Besides, they’re moving within the next few months and I only have one needle left so I’m not worried. I’ll let his wife find out he’s slimy on her own- telling a woman about her man never goes well. 

But anyways. Vyvanse. I got 4 from him and I’ve given him well over 4 needles but he was still somehow convinced that I “owed” him and pressed me for a nude swapping session. I took a permanent raincheck and kept the vyvanse even though the girl they were intended for wound up not picking them up from me.

I’m sure someone at school would want them but I promised myself I wouldn’t put any substances in my new car. I know four pills is a little different from riding around with a pilo but still. I’m in too much trouble as is and I’m lucky group is considered my punishment. 

My counselor is the mother of 3 girls I went to school with and when I realized that I started freaking out about having her as a counselor. I did not need my shit posted on Facebook somewhere for the small minded people in our small town to read. But she’s alright. Unorganized and inconsistent, but alright nonetheless. I couldn’t be in charge of several fellow druggies. Having that many screwed up people depend on me does not sound appealing. 

I don’t even think I can depend on me half of the time. I want to stop doing things for people. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I want to set boundaries. I want to say no to the girl who asks me to get her vyvanse because it’s not good for my sobriety. I want to be selfish. I want to be better. 

I want to go into hiding honestly.

When I think I’m gonna create those “boundaries” and draw a line somewhere, I end up snorting one instead. 

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