Mea culpa

I could't care less about my health, sanity or future as the needle made its way to my vein.

The intravenous delivery of opiods is a form of art, a very elegant way to fall into the warm embrace of oblivion.

The needle is in the right place, at the first aspiration with the syringe you see the slow flow of blood... next, the feeling of something slowly flowing through your veins... that warm calm... flowing, reaching your soul as it infects your blood.

It's salvation...

The syringe is empty yet I'm full... full of peace, deeply intoxicated with problems to keep my heartbeats and almost unable to breath I fall into the bliss of the blank infinitude, the void absent of life.

The pure, pristine, clear dark void.

To live is a mistake, so I have to atone for it.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa...