Old Friends in New Places

We started drinking at 11am. It's now 9:20pm. I'm covered in mosquito bites, temples pulsing with the approaching hangover. 3 mimosas, and what... 4 beers? Or 6 beers? I don't know anymore. In the past, this would've been nothing for me. But now, with a husband who doesn't drink, my tolerance is strikingly low. But this weekend is going to be different...

My 3 best friends from home are here. They flew in this morning, and are staying a few blocks away at a cute little house from AirBnB.

I now have to spend the next 6 days walking a thin line and hiding whatever remnants of my past they think have died, are still alive and well. These are the people who saw me before and after I first started shooting pills, went into the hospital, went to college, got hooked and clean from coke, moved to Texas, etc. etc.. Of the 27 years I've been alive, I known 2 of them for 20 years, and the other almost as long.

Although it's been 2 years since I last saw them, it seems like no time has passed. The possible mischief that will ensue this weekend, reminiscent of high school, is exciting. I've been overwhelmed with joy since the moment they arrived. Just being in their presence is more euphoric than any drug I've ever taken.

However... friendship won't keep me out of withdrawals. My doctor appointment is Tuesday and I'll be able to squeak by until then. Enough oxymorphone er to get me to that morning, and only 4 more oxycodone... I gave in and took my third one of the day today. Technically, I'm prescribed 4 per day, so that's not an issue. But my own indulgence at the beginning of the month has meant (as it does every month) I have to ration them. 2 oxys per day, 2 oxymorphone er per day. That's it... until push comes to shove, and then, ya know, sometimes you have to take another that was meant for a day or two from now.

My future self hates my guts, but she's not here right now. She never is--just a distant possibility.

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I haven't craved coke in so long. Being out at all the bars downtown, walking endless blocks, all I could think of was that odd taste of gasoline (or was it rubbing alcohol) numbing the back of my throat. Stress from trying to meet every dietary restriction was causing me a headache. Pissed off at their ungrateful attitudes as I led them to a place I knew would have food for everyone. I wanted something, anything to keep me going. To keep me from losing my mind. To get me as high as I wasn't right then.

I'm not sure what to do about taking my next pill later on. How to get the powder to their place and snort it in one quick snap. I haven't crushed one up in a fold dollar bill in ages. I am thinking of grinding it up here and finding a way to transport it. Maybe like the good old days in my contact case. Yeah, that's a good idea. Ill just do that.

Just because they're here that doesn't change anything. Just another obstacle to get what I need.