I’ve become aware in the last month or so that when I wake up late and don’t take my pills in the morning like I’m supposed to, I get the shakes like I’m tweaking and they won’t go away until I pop a few Xanax. I feel like a bundle of nerves that are constantly being sent signals that tell me, “This is how it feels to be palsied. How do you like it?”

“How is he so sure it’s the Xanax he’s fiending for?”, you may wonder. Trial and error, of course. I love playing with my medications. Or other people’s.

Have I mentioned that my psychiatrist upped my dosage of Xanax to 150 1mg pills? I’m supposed to take five a day, but I can’t always remember if I did or not, so I’m figuring I’m taking about eight or nine, possibly 10 pills a day or maybe more. I guess we’ll find out when I need a refill.

I’m a bad person. I should never be trusted.

Luckily enough, I don’t drink as much as I used to, but coke is as prevalent in my life as ever. I know I’m not gonna die of an overdose, but each time I try to come down, I’m never really sure what will happen. My not factoring a possible death scenario whenever I do anything and everything under the bright glorious drug rainbow makes me question if I’ve been tempting fate far too often.

Or maybe I’m just suicidal again.

I figure pot isn’t so bad, but I find that I completely shut down after I get stoned and accomplish nothing for the rest of the day—which is usually every day.

I’m kinda scared for myself now.

I’m kinda horny for you now.

I kinda wanna hit rock bottom and see you there waiting for me with a warm embrace.

I kinda wanna be paralyzed from the neck down.

I wanna be a cripple.

I wanna be a zombie.

But what I really need to do—what’s most imperative to do—is make it up to you, Jim. Yours is the writing that inspires me the most and I respect you beyond your talent and infamy; you genuinely encouraged me to follow through and, of course, I had to go and fuck everything up, as is my nature.

To be honest, I’m more embarrassed than sorry—not to say that I’m not extremely sorry for what I neglected to do as well. Jim was right all along and I was a fool to not heed his warnings. I hope to get my shit together soon enough to prove I’m not a complete waste of his time.

I have a lot to prove to a lot of people and I’m working from a cave full of demons by candlelight.

Gimme a real gentle knife and watch me slit their throats if they try to stop me.

Lemme get back to writing.

Lemme get back to building my empire.