I love doing coke ‘til I can’t do it anymore. I mean, to the point where I have to puke up the booze and coke lest I die.

I truly enjoy tempting fate.

I like having trouble breathing.

I like the sweating.

I love the confidence.

I love being reminded that I’m alive.

I don’t even mind a headache if there’s good music playing in the background.

Or if I have something to bring me back down.

I love mixing pills with booze and blow ‘til I get the perfect cocktail that’ll take me away.

My innards must look like—and have the consistency of—black tar.