I'm not feeling particularly compassionate right now. I've been in the hospital since I last wrote. I have had: pneumonia, pancreatitis, fentanyl/methadone/opiate overdose while in the hopsital, no liver function, no kidney function, a tube in my fucking throat while passed out for three days, a fucking tube in my dick for like 5 days, a liquid diet for almost a week, possibly permanent nerve damage to my right leg (I'm a fucking gimp now).

Yes, I fucking died, passed out, got saved, but I passed out while in a position that caused nerve damage to my leg and foot. I was passed out for a few days. My whole family was here when I woke up. I heard my brother was even here for a day or two. Weird shit. My family is so great. So is Caitlin.

So fuck off, I'm finally home, and it feels good, even if my folks did throw out all my xanax and my methadone. But fuck it, man, I don't really need the meth, just the xanax, and I can get another script for that when I need it.

I'm mortified that I haven't talked to Dexter in a few days. He moved to a new house. I lent him a bunch of money for security deposit. I love him. If this is the drippy shit that bores you, don't fucking read it.

My leg is totally fucking numb. It's still swolen, and it feels like my leg is asleep. But permanently. I have to shuffle when I walk. I will not be walking much for a long time. Nerves grow really fucking slowly.

God, I'm not being melodramatic when I say I almost died. I almost died. Almost. The shrinks think I want to kill myself. I don't. They're wrong. I'm actually pretty happy. Right now, I'm ecstatic.