Junkie or junky may also refer to:
A person suffering from drug addiction, most commonly used to refer to a heroin addict
Is it weird that I get annoyed somewhat when the term "junkie" is thrown around lightly to insinuate some dick-head getting jazzed up about something?
It's a dark term, mostly used when describing heroin, (junk) and other forms of heinous drug addiction. Not the lite, weekend use only kind. The stay up for days, scrape for money and turn people into monsters kind.
But it's also a fluffy, stupid term.
"I'm such a Justin Bieber junkie," or "I'm a total love junkie," and "I'm a sock junkie."
Maybe I'm annoyed because it get's thrown around for stupid shit, when it's a seriously crippling affliction. Usually a self-imposed one, mine was. But still...
I know what it's like to be a junkie, to have a muddled mind that can only focus on the use and purchase of narcotics.
Yes, it made me stronger because it almost killed me, but that kind of learning shouldn't be sought after. Avoided if possible.
Nobody wants to be a junkie of any kind, it means you've lost control of something, taking it to excess.
Whether it's Justin Bieber or black tar heroin, neither should be abused or picked up ever, for that matter.
This works into my explaining why and how I cleaned up.
People as of late have been asking me about this, patting me on the back and giving me a lot of, "at a boys", I don't know are completely warranted.
I don't see that what I did was anything that special or worthy of praise.
You don't praise a kid for cleaning their room. If they don't want to live in shit, they clean it up, and that's what I did.
It was hard as hell and the most wretched thing I have hands down, ever done in my life.
I spent three months covered in sweat, eyes bulging out like an asshole, constant obsessive thoughts of cocaine running through my brain. A constant dialog of shit. Whether or not to pick back up. How bad did I want to live anyway? What would happen if I just did it one more time?
I quit after waking up one morning, knowing in my gut, that if I ever touched the stuff again, I'd be dead.
My mother would finally bury the body she'd been anticipating on doing so for years and my friends would loose one more jack-ass to the white shit.
For the first time in 28 years, I didn't want to take myself out.
In short, I claimed straight edge, having friends to back me. I said no, all day, every day.
I went mad. My work environment didn't change, I was constantly harassed by the stuff.
I had the same stimuli working against me.
Not having an easy go of it, no white walls and a nurse on rounds and a Thorazine shot to control my wicked thoughts, I got sick and got over it.
The awfulness of it all is what keeps me from ever desiring to pick up again.
I want to live. I missed my mind. I didn't do it for anyone but myself and I did it myself and that's why it worked.
I didn't have any other choice if I wanted to keep on breathing, putting one foot in front of the other.
No other program had worked. All else had failed. It was up to me.
A junkie can only put down the shit when they're ready; the best solution is to just never start.
And if you do, choose to live and fucking thrive. Chase that just as hard and see where you get. You'll get clean and in no time. You won't know how you got there so fast.
And chances are, you'll have lost all desire to wander back into the dark forest.
Check out the blog on it's home site @ www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
A person suffering from drug addiction, most commonly used to refer to a heroin addict
- A hyperbolic expression for a person with a particularly strong enthusiasm for some activity, e.g. "a TV junkie", "a ski junkie" - Wikipedia
Is it weird that I get annoyed somewhat when the term "junkie" is thrown around lightly to insinuate some dick-head getting jazzed up about something?
It's a dark term, mostly used when describing heroin, (junk) and other forms of heinous drug addiction. Not the lite, weekend use only kind. The stay up for days, scrape for money and turn people into monsters kind.
But it's also a fluffy, stupid term.
"I'm such a Justin Bieber junkie," or "I'm a total love junkie," and "I'm a sock junkie."
Maybe I'm annoyed because it get's thrown around for stupid shit, when it's a seriously crippling affliction. Usually a self-imposed one, mine was. But still...
I know what it's like to be a junkie, to have a muddled mind that can only focus on the use and purchase of narcotics.
Yes, it made me stronger because it almost killed me, but that kind of learning shouldn't be sought after. Avoided if possible.
Nobody wants to be a junkie of any kind, it means you've lost control of something, taking it to excess.
Whether it's Justin Bieber or black tar heroin, neither should be abused or picked up ever, for that matter.
This works into my explaining why and how I cleaned up.
People as of late have been asking me about this, patting me on the back and giving me a lot of, "at a boys", I don't know are completely warranted.
I don't see that what I did was anything that special or worthy of praise.
You don't praise a kid for cleaning their room. If they don't want to live in shit, they clean it up, and that's what I did.
It was hard as hell and the most wretched thing I have hands down, ever done in my life.
I spent three months covered in sweat, eyes bulging out like an asshole, constant obsessive thoughts of cocaine running through my brain. A constant dialog of shit. Whether or not to pick back up. How bad did I want to live anyway? What would happen if I just did it one more time?
I quit after waking up one morning, knowing in my gut, that if I ever touched the stuff again, I'd be dead.
My mother would finally bury the body she'd been anticipating on doing so for years and my friends would loose one more jack-ass to the white shit.
For the first time in 28 years, I didn't want to take myself out.
In short, I claimed straight edge, having friends to back me. I said no, all day, every day.
I went mad. My work environment didn't change, I was constantly harassed by the stuff.
I had the same stimuli working against me.
Not having an easy go of it, no white walls and a nurse on rounds and a Thorazine shot to control my wicked thoughts, I got sick and got over it.
The awfulness of it all is what keeps me from ever desiring to pick up again.
I want to live. I missed my mind. I didn't do it for anyone but myself and I did it myself and that's why it worked.
I didn't have any other choice if I wanted to keep on breathing, putting one foot in front of the other.
No other program had worked. All else had failed. It was up to me.
A junkie can only put down the shit when they're ready; the best solution is to just never start.
And if you do, choose to live and fucking thrive. Chase that just as hard and see where you get. You'll get clean and in no time. You won't know how you got there so fast.
And chances are, you'll have lost all desire to wander back into the dark forest.
Check out the blog on it's home site @ www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan