Currently.

This week I am reading the autobiography, Tweak: Growing up on Methanphetamines, by Nic Sheff. It it the story of his road to recovery. At the beginning of the book he had been clean for 18 months and then it follows him through his relapse, and then trying to get clean.

I haven't finished the book but it is a very intriguing book. It is a little pervocative. There is a lot of cussing and it is very sexual.

He went through a lot being on drugs. He has been homeless several times, he would steal from people he loved just to get money so he could get more drugs, specifically Heroin and Crystal Meth. He also got so low and down that he prostituted his body so he could uphold his high and could have money.

 

While on his road to recovery he was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. I'm not quite sure when the book came out but he has now been clean since November 2006 and is finally happy with his life. His father also wrote a book about Nic's addiction and how it has affected his life called Beautiful Boy.

Favorite Quotes:

“Isn't that the greatest gift in the world-just not to care? ”

“ Honestly, I'm not sure how much longer I can keep doing this. It's like there are seven candles lit in my stomach. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven candles burning and smoking - lit - seven flames of doubt, fear, sorrow, pain, waste, hopelessness, despair. They turn my insides black with soot and ash. There is something at the back of my eyes- a pressure building, building, building - hot like the flames of seven candles, which no amount of breath can extinguish.
I imagine drinking glasses of water. One, two, three four, five, six, seven. I dive into the clearest pool. I drown myself in the coarse, dry sand. I swallow handfuls of crushed white salt, but the flames burn still - brighter, hotter, deeper. Sweat runs in delicate patterns down my back, over my crooked spine and jutting hips. I scratch at the wounds these last weeks have left, but I can't break free of them. The flies gather and vultures circle overhead. The fire eats away my flesh. The fire spreads. The fire runs through my veins. The fire courses beneath my muscles - my tendons - the marrow of my bones.
I sit rocking on the street corner. No, I can't keep doing this. I just can't.”

“We only have this one moment: NOW.”

Pages read this week: 413
Pages read this semester: 2312