Finding it hard to find the bad times

Im at a meeting at a park i was homeless in my car at. I can see myself sitting in my car hitting the pipe and the bottle. The sun is setting and its really beautiful at this bay.. Beatiful women everywhere, public bathrooms and alot of free space to walk around and tweak. I remeber going through psychosis for the first time here the terror and the magic of it all. No boss,expectations and places to be. It was just me and my magical world

Its hard to remeber the times when i had to go steal food from grocery stores because i was starving or not being able to drive because i didnt have gas money. The feelings of shame and disgust as my car and body deteriorate. My car became a black hole where all my belongings would slowly get sucked into and lost forever in some alternate realm where all lost tweaker items end up. I would just stimfap days away. Time was irrelevant,weeks would go by without me. I wasnt talking to anyone besides the other lost souls id meet up in their coffins embeded in a place called a motel. Where weary travelers would come meet up and restock on supplies and wash the grim and muck from their skin, a place to scheme and plot our next mission to acquire our funding

Mission completed id return to my solace in the park delusional and alone.

I can stop turning my binges into a bukowski adventure. I fear i found solace in the pain of the everyday use of methamphetamine.