8:30 PM, a minute till. The lack of kratom, like the alcohol, is leaving a hole in my heart. My primary preoccupation is no more. I wander around the house more than I used to. I don’t want to do anything else for more than a few minutes at a time, which makes it hard to get engaged.

I hope, though, that tomorrow is easier, and my kratom doesn’t arrive until I’m done with that shit for good. That the extra shipment is for… what exactly? To never be used. I know this is going to take longer to get off than just a few days, though, so it might be tempting once it arrives. It’ll be a less addicting strain, according to the chemistry, though.

Mom’s asleep, brother is holed up in his room. There’s no one to talk to. I’m alone. Most would relish such a moment, to snuggle with a book in bed. No work to do. To me, it is torture.

I can’t even say that much here. I don’t know what to say.

Life goes on.

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