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I tried to write about this a couple days ago when I was drunk, but it ended up being a babble of incoherent sentences that I’m sure repeated the same thing I wanted to say over and over, just in different ways. I mean, I know I have a problem with repeating myself, but I think that’s because I’m always afraid people won’t understand what I mean the first time around. Or the second.

But I’ve come to a point where I need to be honest. I know I’m usually honest to the point of TMI most days, but it’s never about anything important. Not really. Or, well, it’s never about anything I’m ashamed of. This, both of these, I am. So much that ever since then I’ve been having problems getting to sleep at night. I lie awake in bed every night and think about this shit. I can’t help it. Trust me, I wish I could. I’d prefer to have a normal sleep schedule for once instead of lying in bed until 9am.

Anyway, both of these things happened in June.

Most of you know that I had a problem with meth and made it past the one year clean mark. That’s still true. I didn’t lie to anyone about that. But It was kind of fucked, because all it took was being around it one time before I ended up spending $600 on meth in a single fucking month. One time. A bunch of random guys offered to give me a ride to work but they needed to go to their dealer’s house. The dealer lived a block away from me. ONE BLOCK. Are you serious? It was fucking over the moment it started. I was tweeked out through the entire month of June. I think I slept maybe a total of five days out of that whole month. Maybe ate a total of, eh, we’ll give it seven or eight days. It was so sad how EASY it was for me to say yes to it. I didn’t even think twice. Even after being clean for over a year, I said yes without a moments hesitation.

And you know what’s sad? Part of me loved it. I fucking love that drug, I’m sorry. I know it gets me in so much trouble and coming down is like being in hell but sometimes I crave it like I crave air to live.

I love what the drug lets me achieve. I’m a creative person, okay? If I’m not creating something I feel like I don’t have a purpose. But I have focus problems and it can screw up a big project I’m working on if it’s taking too long and my ADD kicks in. Then I’m like fuck this and try to wrap it up as quickly as possible, half assed. Like my fanvids, for example.

On meth, I make amazing fucking fan videos. My Nate addiction one, my Beth Starry Eyed one, my Leverage South Park one that everyone fucking loves? Meth. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on making shit of that caliber without the focus meth gives me. Especially the South Park one. I mean, finding clips that kind of match to the words, do you know how long that takes? I couldn’t do that to save my life sober.

You know how long its taken me to build my own website right now? For my fan fiction and fan videos? It’s been months, months. And I’m still fucking it off and making it half assed. But when I was on meth, I made my entire Beth Riesgraf fan site in a little over a week. Fuck, to be honest, most of the shit I’ve ever done for Beth has been built on meth, but let’s not go there.

Point is, meth stimulates my creativity and allows me to focus better. That’s why I have a hard time not doing it. I’m not a tweeker that smokes, then fucks off with their friends in stupid ass ways to get arrested, or cleans the house like a maniac. I do shit. Productive fucking shit, thank you.

I’ve been clean since I moved to Portland, by the way, but fuck knows how long that’ll last. I know I can’t see it without wanting it, and how am I supposed to go my whole life never seeing it? But whatever.

I didn’t have the time of my life on it though, of course. The guilt was fucking eating me alive and yet I still kept it a secret. It’s hard when people say “I’m proud of you” and you know that there’s really nothing to be proud of anymore. So, what did I do? I did the same thing I did when I knew I was spiraling out of control the first time on meth: I focused far too much on Beth. Which wouldn’t have been much an of an issue if the situation was still the same as it was back then. Back then I had never met her, back then I wasn’t able to freaking email her. Do you see how this became an issue, and fast? Dear lord.

But yeah, back then, when I fucked off every day and living in a motel room with my three cats and miserable about it, I focused on Beth. I made the website, the YouTube channel. I obsessed heavily because it let me not focus on my own life. So I guess when that happened again, I went back to my comfort zone. Except, you know, this time, it made shit so much worse.

This time, I had already met her. I was able to talk to her whenever I wanted. I ended up looking up to her so much and at the same time developing a sort of crush on her and desperately felt the need to impress her; to get her to like me. It was awful, really, because I’m bad with people to begin with, so I have no idea how to talk to a person normally in the first place. And then there’s her. I was worse with her.

Look at my YouTube channel. Do you know how many fan videos of her I made in June? Every single one I would send her an email to show her and be all LOOK WHAT I MADE BLAH BLAH VALIDATE ME LOVE ME BLAH. It was embarrassing, really. At the time I didn’t think so, I was so wrapped up in trying not to feel guilty about what I was doing that I felt like if Beth liked me than I wouldn’t have a reason to feel so awful. I kind of went overboard though.

And then something kind of went down at the end of the month that made us stop speaking to each other. I won’t go into what it is, it’s between us and really isn’t anyone else’s business, but long story short: she hurt my feelings and I retaliated in a really fucking awful way. Like, I was a huge cunt to her. HUGE. I didn’t yell at her or anything, I didn’t tell her to fuck off or say fuck you or call her any names (to her face, anyway) but I was really fucking mean to her regardless. Now, to be fair, I really don’t think she meant to hurt my feelings. She never meant for me to find out the real reason about something, because if she did, she would have told me straight up. I think she did when she did to spare my feelings, but because I knew the truth I went the fuck off at her.

That was also the point where I realized meth was fucking me sideways. Because when you’re up for a week straight, bipolar like a bitch already, it kind of makes you… snap. And I think if I wasn’t doing meth, maybe I would have taken a second to think about what was going on and respond in a more adult way. But I didn’t take a second to think. At all. I just reacted. Because in that moment I hated her with every inch of my being.

I’m one of those people who do things and don’t think about tomorrow. I’m convinced I won’t be alive much longer so I look at things like it doesn’t fucking matter, only to hate life when I’m still alive and it matters somewhere down the road. And it matters now, I feel fucking awful.

Beth is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met who seriously had no reason to even give me the time of day in the first place, and yet she did. And I think I really ended up hurting her because of what I did. I mean, I’m her biggest fan. I think she’s so incredibly talented, more than any other actress I’ve seen, and I’ve supported her in ways no one else ever has before. I’m the one that always stuck up for her and had her back when other people were being douchebags. So for me to turn around and be horrible to her like that? That really must have hurt.

Yeah, I feel like a cunt.

Not that I’m invalidating my own feelings on the matter. She did hurt me and to be honest I doubt I’ll ever get an apology for it. I’d like to think that it doesn’t matter, but that’d be a lie.

I probably shouldn’t care what some woman I barely know thinks about me, but I do. I can’t help it. She’s important to me, you know? I’ve gone into this before; about how Parker helped me and stuff. I mean, that’s fucking important. And how when I wanted to kill myself because I was in this dark fucking hole of tweaked out shit, I used her to feel happier. I mean, indirectly, she did save my life. So yeah, she’s fucking important and that’s why it mattered.

Anyway, regardless of all of that and how I feel about her side of it, I do know that I fucked up worse. I do know that I had no right to say what I said to her and to act like a complete angsted out teenager on crack. It makes me feel awful because I really don’t think she deserved that, even if she did hurt my feelings. It’s not like she was cruel to me or anything. So, I’ve been needing to seriously apologize to her for awhile now.

Which brings me to her birthday gift and why the fuck that isn’t sent out yet even though it’s been over a month.

All the stuff is wrapped and ready to go out. Has been for weeks. I have a big letter in there in which I apologize for being a complete ass. And has it gone out? No. Why? I’m fucking terrified to send it. This is one of those things where I seriously only get one shot at and I still don’t know if what I said will even make a difference. I mean, I’m shit with people, really. Like absolute shit. I’m worried I said the wrong thing and… fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with it.

And it’s not fair to everyone else who sent their stuff in. It’s not just my present, it’s everyone’s. Fuck. I don’t know.

I just feel bad about it and this crap keeps me awake at night. Beth, the meth thing, fucking all of it. I continuously beat myself up over it. I can’t help it. That’s just who I am. I’ve never had shit go on this long. Ever. I don’t know how to handle it.

So yeah. There’s honesty right there. The entire month of June and why it sucked. I’ve just kept this shit inside for way to long and maybe, I don’t know, talking about it will allow me to try to move past it. Hopefully. I just need to quit lying to everyone.

Though, in all honesty, I’ll still tell people, when directly asked, that I’ve been clean for a year and a half. I can’t say three months outloud. It’s just depressing.

Fuck. Idk.

Labels: beth riesgraf, drugs, meth

I tried to write about this a couple days ago when I was drunk, but it ended up being a babble of incoherent sentences that I’m sure repeated the same thing I wanted to say over and over, just in different ways. I mean, I know I have a problem with repeating myself, but I think that’s because I’m always afraid people won’t understand what I mean the first time around. Or the second.

But I’ve come to a point where I need to be honest. I know I’m usually honest to the point of TMI most days, but it’s never about anything important. Not really. Or, well, it’s never about anything I’m ashamed of. This, both of these, I am. So much that ever since then I’ve been having problems getting to sleep at night. I lie awake in bed every night and think about this shit. I can’t help it. Trust me, I wish I could. I’d prefer to have a normal sleep schedule for once instead of lying in bed until 9am.

Anyway, both of these things happened in June.

Most of you know that I had a problem with meth and made it past the one year clean mark. That’s still true. I didn’t lie to anyone about that. But It was kind of fucked, because all it took was being around it one time before I ended up spending $600 on meth in a single fucking month. One time. A bunch of random guys offered to give me a ride to work but they needed to go to their dealer’s house. The dealer lived a block away from me. ONE BLOCK. Are you serious? It was fucking over the moment it started. I was tweeked out through the entire month of June. I think I slept maybe a total of five days out of that whole month. Maybe ate a total of, eh, we’ll give it seven or eight days. It was so sad how EASY it was for me to say yes to it. I didn’t even think twice. Even after being clean for over a year, I said yes without a moments hesitation.

And you know what’s sad? Part of me loved it. I fucking love that drug, I’m sorry. I know it gets me in so much trouble and coming down is like being in hell but sometimes I crave it like I crave air to live.

I love what the drug lets me achieve. I’m a creative person, okay? If I’m not creating something I feel like I don’t have a purpose. But I have focus problems and it can screw up a big project I’m working on if it’s taking too long and my ADD kicks in. Then I’m like fuck this and try to wrap it up as quickly as possible, half assed. Like my fanvids, for example.

On meth, I make amazing fucking fan videos. My Nate addiction one, my Beth Starry Eyed one, my Leverage South Park one that everyone fucking loves? Meth. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on making shit of that caliber without the focus meth gives me. Especially the South Park one. I mean, finding clips that kind of match to the words, do you know how long that takes? I couldn’t do that to save my life sober.

You know how long its taken me to build my own website right now? For my fan fiction and fan videos? It’s been months, months. And I’m still fucking it off and making it half assed. But when I was on meth, I made my entire Beth Riesgraf fan site in a little over a week. Fuck, to be honest, most of the shit I’ve ever done for Beth has been built on meth, but let’s not go there.

Point is, meth stimulates my creativity and allows me to focus better. That’s why I have a hard time not doing it. I’m not a tweeker that smokes, then fucks off with their friends in stupid ass ways to get arrested, or cleans the house like a maniac. I do shit. Productive fucking shit, thank you.

I’ve been clean since I moved to Portland, by the way, but fuck knows how long that’ll last. I know I can’t see it without wanting it, and how am I supposed to go my whole life never seeing it? But whatever.

I didn’t have the time of my life on it though, of course. The guilt was fucking eating me alive and yet I still kept it a secret. It’s hard when people say “I’m proud of you” and you know that there’s really nothing to be proud of anymore. So, what did I do? I did the same thing I did when I knew I was spiraling out of control the first time on meth: I focused far too much on Beth. Which wouldn’t have been much an of an issue if the situation was still the same as it was back then. Back then I had never met her, back then I wasn’t able to freaking email her. Do you see how this became an issue, and fast? Dear lord.

But yeah, back then, when I fucked off every day and living in a motel room with my three cats and miserable about it, I focused on Beth. I made the website, the YouTube channel. I obsessed heavily because it let me not focus on my own life. So I guess when that happened again, I went back to my comfort zone. Except, you know, this time, it made shit so much worse.

This time, I had already met her. I was able to talk to her whenever I wanted. I ended up looking up to her so much and at the same time developing a sort of crush on her and desperately felt the need to impress her; to get her to like me. It was awful, really, because I’m bad with people to begin with, so I have no idea how to talk to a person normally in the first place. And then there’s her. I was worse with her.

Look at my YouTube channel. Do you know how many fan videos of her I made in June? Every single one I would send her an email to show her and be all LOOK WHAT I MADE BLAH BLAH VALIDATE ME LOVE ME BLAH. It was embarrassing, really. At the time I didn’t think so, I was so wrapped up in trying not to feel guilty about what I was doing that I felt like if Beth liked me than I wouldn’t have a reason to feel so awful. I kind of went overboard though.

And then something kind of went down at the end of the month that made us stop speaking to each other. I won’t go into what it is, it’s between us and really isn’t anyone else’s business, but long story short: she hurt my feelings and I retaliated in a really fucking awful way. Like, I was a huge cunt to her. HUGE. I didn’t yell at her or anything, I didn’t tell her to fuck off or say fuck you or call her any names (to her face, anyway) but I was really fucking mean to her regardless. Now, to be fair, I really don’t think she meant to hurt my feelings. She never meant for me to find out the real reason about something, because if she did, she would have told me straight up. I think she did when she did to spare my feelings, but because I knew the truth I went the fuck off at her.

That was also the point where I realized meth was fucking me sideways. Because when you’re up for a week straight, bipolar like a bitch already, it kind of makes you… snap. And I think if I wasn’t doing meth, maybe I would have taken a second to think about what was going on and respond in a more adult way. But I didn’t take a second to think. At all. I just reacted. Because in that moment I hated her with every inch of my being.

I’m one of those people who do things and don’t think about tomorrow. I’m convinced I won’t be alive much longer so I look at things like it doesn’t fucking matter, only to hate life when I’m still alive and it matters somewhere down the road. And it matters now, I feel fucking awful.

Beth is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met who seriously had no reason to even give me the time of day in the first place, and yet she did. And I think I really ended up hurting her because of what I did. I mean, I’m her biggest fan. I think she’s so incredibly talented, more than any other actress I’ve seen, and I’ve supported her in ways no one else ever has before. I’m the one that always stuck up for her and had her back when other people were being douchebags. So for me to turn around and be horrible to her like that? That really must have hurt.

Yeah, I feel like a cunt.

Not that I’m invalidating my own feelings on the matter. She did hurt me and to be honest I doubt I’ll ever get an apology for it. I’d like to think that it doesn’t matter, but that’d be a lie.

I probably shouldn’t care what some woman I barely know thinks about me, but I do. I can’t help it. She’s important to me, you know? I’ve gone into this before; about how Parker helped me and stuff. I mean, that’s fucking important. And how when I wanted to kill myself because I was in this dark fucking hole of tweaked out shit, I used her to feel happier. I mean, indirectly, she did save my life. So yeah, she’s fucking important and that’s why it mattered.

Anyway, regardless of all of that and how I feel about her side of it, I do know that I fucked up worse. I do know that I had no right to say what I said to her and to act like a complete angsted out teenager on crack. It makes me feel awful because I really don’t think she deserved that, even if she did hurt my feelings. It’s not like she was cruel to me or anything. So, I’ve been needing to seriously apologize to her for awhile now.

Which brings me to her birthday gift and why the fuck that isn’t sent out yet even though it’s been over a month.

All the stuff is wrapped and ready to go out. Has been for weeks. I have a big letter in there in which I apologize for being a complete ass. And has it gone out? No. Why? I’m fucking terrified to send it. This is one of those things where I seriously only get one shot at and I still don’t know if what I said will even make a difference. I mean, I’m shit with people, really. Like absolute shit. I’m worried I said the wrong thing and… fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with it.

And it’s not fair to everyone else who sent their stuff in. It’s not just my present, it’s everyone’s. Fuck. I don’t know.

I just feel bad about it and this crap keeps me awake at night. Beth, the meth thing, fucking all of it. I continuously beat myself up over it. I can’t help it. That’s just who I am. I’ve never had shit go on this long. Ever. I don’t know how to handle it.

So yeah. There’s honesty right there. The entire month of June and why it sucked. I’ve just kept this shit inside for way to long and maybe, I don’t know, talking about it will allow me to try to move past it. Hopefully. I just need to quit lying to everyone.

Though, in all honesty, I’ll still tell people, when directly asked, that I’ve been clean for a year and a half. I can’t say three months outloud. It’s just depressing.

Fuck. Idk.

Labels: beth riesgraf, drugs, meth

My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to fly.

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