Syringes Stuck In A Dart Board

So, I went to the doctor. The doctor gave me opiate pain killers because the last time his prescription did not work, the same as over-the-counter pain killers. So, there was no other choice. He can't even give me triptan's because my antidepressants might have a terrible side effect if mixed together.

So, I started taking opiates, leading to a difficult road to addiction.

My life was shit, always had been. Contemplating my life choices on how I got here in the first place was not my fault, but every decision every human surrounding me affects me and what they say. Everything humans do affects other people in their surroundings, like a butterfly effect.

I imagined what I was thinking during my intoxication with opiate painkillers. I became more intelligent, started taking more, and got delusional about it because I thought this stuff made me bright. I even started writing more inspiring books that could help others with their addiction throughout my life. Considering my own addiction is the one cause of my high intelligence. I call this "Big Brain Moment."

And once I take too much, I start to doze off to a deep alpha state in my mind where I am physically immobilized, as if I was asleep. My heart keeps pumping as slow with its palpitating beat. It hurt my chest, and my breathing has got a bit slower.

Then I started to get eye bags, and my face had got older than it used to look so young.

Then, I started a business in the criminal underworld of the Philippines as an amateur hitman just for the sake of opiates. I wanted to smoke actual opiates and not just take the pills. I like its purest form. I didn't want money at all. I just wanted opiates. But if they give me an opiate seed, they're going to die by my hands.

My only weapon? It was a bent metallic black bat. I even changed my style by wearing a camouflage sports jacket and neon pants with tainted yellow goggles on my forehead as protection from the blood splattered on my face.

But I wasn't doing hitman jobs for foul or indiscriminately. I get hired to beat up abusive parents to save children. But their relatives are the ones hiring me if the Child Protection Services doesn't do shit for the kids. I do it.

I do this because I know how it feels like to be locked up in that goddamned house for 7 years. Because my dad was used my mental illness as an excuse to keep taking care of me like his little baby boy in his goddamned house.

They called me "The Panda Hero" with my eye bags and my evil intentions for a good cause. They called me "The Panda Hero." And sometimes, if they beg enough without anything in return, I would just do it for free and reject their opiate seed.

But then, Sakura saw me sleeping in a puddle in the public markets. I went too far on opiate addiction. I switched to heroin. That's when it hit her. What she did had caused all this. She took me to her apartment in Angeles City. Telling me she moved back in just to see me again.

She was sorry for every little thing she did because, after the breakup, she learned every single terrible something she's done or said against me. She even blames herself for not having good social skills that could harm how I feel, like being too blunt with her words instead of having to at least lie a little just to comfort me when I get a new haircut.

Or she shouts at me too loudly, saying she hates me just because I can't do what she wants me to do because I'm too busy with work. And more emotionally immature things. I give too much, and I receive nothing.

Our breakup gave her enough distance to let her understand her true nature, which is very toxic, not towards me but to everyone else. She can't always be spoiled because the world doesn't revolve around her. Yes, she may be rich. But she has to learn from her mistakes.

Instead of denying and avoiding them, she can't run away from her decisions for the rest of her life, which she needs to learn. That's what she said to me. While I was too fucked up to even understand anything she said, my opiates just gave me super psychic powers to conclude these are what she said.

Then I snapped out of it sooner. I got sober and tried to get the next dose in my pocket, but she slapped it away from me. She wanted to take care of me. And rehabilitate me. I quit and recovered from my heroin addiction, all thanks to her after a while.

But the problem was, she was still the same emotionally immature girlfriend. It turns out my stupid psychic powers induced by opiates don't exist but just my dopamine-induced delusions.

I sighed. I just called my dad and asked if I could come home. He accepted, so I just packed my bags because I knew she was not worth it if she continued to be like this. But I still love her. I know one day I'm just going to be desperately missing her enough to come back to her. And repeat the same cycle over and over again, expecting shit to change. That is crazy!

BUT WHAT THE HELL! Let our saga continue for all hell eternity's sake just to keep this going, over and over again, expecting things to change.