One of phantom fears is the people I consider friends are secretly behind a curtain laughing at me. A trope from many movies where it’s usually three mean girls who pretend to be nice and the moment you let yourself believe, they burst out laughing at how much of an idiot I was to think that was possible.

This fear comes in many styles but now that I have spent some time with stereotype drug users, I experience it strongly. Drug addicts don’t have friends. They have connections that they can use to get more drugs. They are skilled at using people. Users.

They might be friendly as part of the plan, and they may even be smart and devious or foolish and lucky, but if you are friends with a drug addict, things will go missing. That kind of disrespect means almost definately they are laughing at me behind the curtain. Every time I make an excuse and give them a pass on a desperate attempt to keep what I consider a friend, they are laughing and calling me an idiot while they plan what next to take.

I’m the schmuch,.. over again 

For the rest of my life, I may notice things missing. It happened today. Something I was excited to receive this past week is not here. My room is small and I don’t often lose things in it. But now, instead of searching I just slap myself in the face, call myself a schmuch and assume somebody is considering themselves superior because I blindly let them steal from me.

I get it now. Once you’ve crossed that line, it is no longer a line. It is a justified method of acquiring more guilt free. The friends are sources.

Users be using and losers be losing.

Fuck.