I thought about not writing about it, but how lame is that, to have this space to write, and not use it? As if I haven't done worse things in the past? I guess I got used to being "good" again. I used to relapse and you would never hear about it until a month later, when I'd say, "well, I was doing heroin, but that's it, it's over now, this is the last day!" I guess now I expect more honesty from myself. And I hope you do too.

Well. The strangest thing is that I don't remember anything, not even before I bought it. I don't remember anything after Sunday night. I've been going through my chats with Donna, and my cellphone log, trying to piece it together like a detective. I remember waking up on a certain day, and leaving the house, pretty certain of what I was going to do -- actually I think I tried the number before I left the house. That must have been Wednesday. I remember they had me meet them somewhere strange, in the north of the city. They must have been surprised to see me after all this time, but I don't remember anything we said. I do remember having a fight with my parents on Monday night, and almost leaving... I wanted to hitchhike... maybe being upset made me want to do it? I can't remember anything.

The hours and days before I did it are almost gone from my memory, but after I did it, that is completely erased. Two whole days, I think. Luckily Donna called me that evening, Wednesday, and I also spoke to her yesterday, so she was helping me jog my memory today. And I have this chat with her from last night.. reading through it, you can see my memory going, from minute to minute. I keep repeating myself. And telling her things she already knows. Oh, it makes me sick.

At some point, I told my parents. I'm not sure why. Donna says at first I was trying to hide it from them. Oh well. No use looking even crazier to them by asking, "Hey, why did I tell you that?" They seem completely normal, though. I can't find my car keys, maybe they took them. I don't feel like asking. It's all a mystery.

I hate losing my memory, so much. I can't figure out why it's *all* gone, even before I did drugs. Usually the hours and minutes before I actually do it become engraved in my mind, forever. The longer it's been, the more I remember the giving in. Donna says she called me and I was asleep in my car. I don't know where. She said I bought coffee. Yesterday is even worse. I woke up, and lived an entire day, and it's all gone. I don't even know what I wore, what I ate. Nothing, probably. I'm starving.

I just can't figure it out. I know I went to the needle exchange, because I have needles. And that would have been before I actually shot up, it has to be, logically. But I don't remember parking on Nicollet, I don't remember going in, I don't remember telling the lady my birthday or my initials -- I remember all that stuff from last year, the stuff you do at the needle exchange, but not from Wednesday. I don't even remember if I went in the front or back door, or where I shot up for the first time in eight months. Some street, somewhere, I guess.

I'm not even sure why I did it. I have a chat from Donna, just before I left the house, saying I was going to look for jobs. Is that what I thought I was doing? When did I call the number, before or after I left the house? I can't believe they still have the same number. Drug dealers always change their number, goddamnit.

I remember trying to buy coffee at Caffetto's, on Lyndale, and all I had in my wallet was baht. I wonder how I paid for it.

God I hate this feeling. It's strange, I used to treasure the days after I would stop doing heroin, even when it was horrible, because it felt like "waking up" -- everything would seem so clear to me, so beautiful, or sad, but stark and real. I don't feel that way now. Maybe back then it wasn't clear either, it was just clear compared to the weeks or months of nothingness that had preceded it.

I don't have that feeling of horror -- at the present, or the past, or yesterday. Maybe I'll feel more like myself tomorrow. I wish I knew what just happened.