I wake up on the floor once again. I need to stop doing this. It’s been one month since I checked out of rehab. I see the certificate of achievement across the room. It reads “Congratulations Noah” I can make out the second line even more clearly, “For Prevail Over Substances” in gold lettering. Substances echoes through my head, becoming ever more realistic as if someone were gently whispering into my ear about the mistakes I’d made over the past 2 years.
He walked through the hoards of stuff, face crunched in a grimace. He could hardly believe he’d grown up in this place. It was so full now. It looked so different.
He looked at the staircase longingly, wishing to see his old bedroom but knowing he couldn’t go up there. Not knowing what she’d did when they left her. Not knowing how she died.
our bodies are made up of different substances. the water we drink is, the air we breathe. everything is a combination of everything else in some tiny capacity. but the true substances that make up a (wo)man are respect, honesty, bravery, and the ability to love.
Substances are so often thought of as anything illegal and/or bad for you. Personally, when I think of the word “substances,” I’m hit with thoughts of what things are made of, and then, what we are made of. What are each of us made of really?
substances like alcohol are bad for you. These you should not get addicted to. Be careful when using substances like things you can get addicted to it is really easy to do this but don’t.
I remember it. I remember it so well. We were stumbling up the stairs, trying to stay quiet while laughing at our failing sneakiness. He was in the bathroom, and we were going to embarrass and scare him. I remember how effortless it felt. That was before she vanished from my side. I tripped up the last two stairs and burst through the door, knowing he would be there for me. But everything was gone, and no one was left standing.
The emptiness wraps and spirals around her. It sucks her down. Sure, there are people present, words spoken and strewn into the mainstream. But their thoughts are meaningless. Marit looks for substance that she can hold, grasp, hug tight against the numbing isolation of depression.
Finding none, she turns to substances of another sort.
Substance abuse is sad. It ruins peoples lives, and the people who care about them. Its horrible people have to go through that. Dependent on something that ruins them.
substances everywhere
they make up the bone and flesh of what we call life
of course i am a substance
of whatever my memories make me.
but are you a substance, oh mr. word?
mr substances, are you really there?
a word is a substance, isn’t it?
i’m not so sure.
substance abuse is a terrible thing. I watched some of my closest friends use, and become addicted to illegal, as well as legal substances. Prescription drugs, although legal, is killing people at a rate comparable to illegal substances, such as cocaine and heroin. Love is also a deadly substance.
after all i had been through in my life, this was the crutch that finally sent it spiraling out of control. And the biggest joke of it all, it wasn’t me that was suffering from it; abusing it for all its worth. No; it was my own daughter – now being lowered into the ground, lost to me forever
She described the kiss as like the neighboring effect of oil and water, while I imagined it to be like the elevating mercury levels within a fragile thermometer.
substances, i use substances all of the time. like, on the daily. everybody has to. theres so many different kinds. its remarkable. like, theirs illegal kinds, legal kinds, chemical kinds. so many kinds.
The substances dripped from the ceiling. She didn’t dare ask herself what they actually were, only turned her gaze to the floor where they splashed against the dark tiles. Everything here was dark, roof, floor, walls….she didn’t want to think about why that was either. You could hide a lot in black. She smooth her skirt down against her thighs, for a moment distracted by the soft velvet against her skin.
substances. when i think of the word substances i think of bad subtsnaces. like drugs or alcohol. i hate drugs and alcohol. i think they are such a pointless, stupid, ignorant use of time, money and horrible excuse for something to do or an excuse for doing something stupid. everything in life is a choice and if you choose to do that, then i have no sympathy for the consequences following it.
Never have I seen so many. There seemed to be thousands, all in one small room. I feel the heat and smell the fumes. I pray to find an opening, space. The only positive thought I have is that it’s all a dream. For 2 days I’ve been waiting and can’t seem to get out. I cant seem to wake up.
I only know one thing for sure: this substance is dangerous. I don;t know what it does, or how it came to be in my possession. I do believe that it was meant for me, and only me. I cannot let this fall into somebody else’s hands. I can trust no one. There was a note; it was left by this surreptitious jar of black powder. The note read: “Charles, I had to notify you as quickly as possible! I have not much time to spare! Please, take my last of Draught of Death, this is all I have left. I have sent it to you for you are the only man I can trust. They King’s guards are coming soon, surely to execute me. You must protect this Charles! – A.R.B” I haven’t the slightest clue who A.R.B. is. My grandfather was Charles. Was, in the past tense. He died just this morning as he handed me this jar. His last words, “You know what to do…” And to be honest, I do not. I do not want to dishonor my grandfather. I have this sensation, this premonition, this sense, that I have to go to the castle. What I do from there, I haven’t any idea! What this “Draught of Death” does, I do not know. What is my mission? We will soon find out. Hopefully.
There are many different kinds of substances in the world. I don’t know how I happened to stumble across this one, but somehow it became my responsibility. I know this substance – whatever it may be called- in the right hands, has the power to change the world.
what are the substances in life that really matter. the drugs that make us high as the clouds and make everything below us look so small. or is the things that keep us grounded. the family and friends who remind that we are part of this fucked up world and as chaotic as it is, we should be pretty damned happy to be a part of it.
The withered old man tapped a number of unidentifiable substances from jars into his hand then threw them into the small round pot swaying above the fire; a mix of course white powders, a fine black dust, and a couple of round things which looked like dried seedpods which he proceeded to crunch between his palms before dropping the remnants in.
Finally, and quite unexpectedly, he took a fresh green lime from a pocket deep in his rags, cut it in half, then quartered it, juicing three of the quarters into the pot, and, saving the last for himself, biting into it with black and gappy teeth he turned and gave us a cheeky grin, the green lime skin between his lips giving him a comical “lime smile”.
This was some witch doctor….
There were many substances in the container. I looked inside and i asked him “What is this?” He answered “I’m not sure.” Then he looked at me and yelled “DUCK!” and when i did the poisonous substances were thrown across the room. The walls started smoking and it lit on fire. I ran out of the house, but then i realized he was still in there. I ran through all the smoke. The room was on fire. He was on the ground coughing. “Go!” he said. “save yourself!” “I’m not leaving without you!” I yelled. Suddenly behind up part of the ceiling came tumbling down. “We have to go NOW!” i grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He tried to get up, but he pulled me down with him. We both managed to stand up and we ran out of the house. “What was in there!?” i yelled at him.
These substances, they control me, they draw me in even though i know they shouldn’t. I hate it i do, but i will do anything for a little more. anything.
Oooh! They can be so freaking treacherous! Sometimes have to hate them =( but it’s still possible to love them, yes… I do, do love them! ADORE! some of them, sure, not, like, every substance ever, no, for sure…
things that you mix around and stir together and you put them together and they are both gone and something new , combined, in their place. things that change and milk and eggs and oxygen
The muck that he felt under his skin didn’t feel like a heart or blood pumping in and through his veins. The substances he felt were emotions, and he didn’t much care for it one bit. This would not stand as it were.
The woman took the substance as she was writhing in pain, her whole body screaming against it, telling her to stop. She continued. Her husband came in, furious, knowing what had happened. The substances had gotten to her, and he knew that she would never recover again.
They take up space and are our resources. We use them to attach things to other things – like hearts and minds. We eat them. Drink them. We pull them out of dark places and use them to create other substances. They are building blocks. They occupy space and make us whole.
there are many kinds of substances! liquid solid gas and blah. well i guess if you count f–wait no that was a dumb idea hold on…
uh fuck
my favorite kind of substance is food because im practically always hungry and yeah??? idk. this is dumb everything is dumb why do i suck at writing AUGH. to sum up substances can go far if you think really hard???
I think of drugs, like abusing substances. Alcohol, whatever. A few people who are really important to me have struggled with addiction. But then, you can be addicted to even things that are good and whole. That’s my story.
substances that are made with edible stuff can be eaten. Such as, mashed potatoes are made of potatoes. potatoes are that very substance that mashed potatoes are made of. But what substance is a potato made of? I don’t know that, either. :D
I wake up on the floor once again. I need to stop doing this. It’s been one month since I checked out of rehab. I see the certificate of achievement across the room. It reads “Congratulations Noah” I can make out the second line even more clearly, “For Prevail Over Substances” in gold lettering. Substances echoes through my head, becoming ever more realistic as if someone were gently whispering into my ear about the mistakes I’d made over the past 2 years.
He walked through the hoards of stuff, face crunched in a grimace. He could hardly believe he’d grown up in this place. It was so full now. It looked so different.
He looked at the staircase longingly, wishing to see his old bedroom but knowing he couldn’t go up there. Not knowing what she’d did when they left her. Not knowing how she died.
our bodies are made up of different substances. the water we drink is, the air we breathe. everything is a combination of everything else in some tiny capacity. but the true substances that make up a (wo)man are respect, honesty, bravery, and the ability to love.
Substances are so often thought of as anything illegal and/or bad for you. Personally, when I think of the word “substances,” I’m hit with thoughts of what things are made of, and then, what we are made of. What are each of us made of really?
substances like alcohol are bad for you. These you should not get addicted to. Be careful when using substances like things you can get addicted to it is really easy to do this but don’t.
I remember it. I remember it so well. We were stumbling up the stairs, trying to stay quiet while laughing at our failing sneakiness. He was in the bathroom, and we were going to embarrass and scare him. I remember how effortless it felt. That was before she vanished from my side. I tripped up the last two stairs and burst through the door, knowing he would be there for me. But everything was gone, and no one was left standing.
The emptiness wraps and spirals around her. It sucks her down. Sure, there are people present, words spoken and strewn into the mainstream. But their thoughts are meaningless. Marit looks for substance that she can hold, grasp, hug tight against the numbing isolation of depression.
Finding none, she turns to substances of another sort.
Substance abuse is sad. It ruins peoples lives, and the people who care about them. Its horrible people have to go through that. Dependent on something that ruins them.
chemical. the make up of a person. be a person of substance. integrity, wholeness, truth, light.
substances everywhere
they make up the bone and flesh of what we call life
of course i am a substance
of whatever my memories make me.
but are you a substance, oh mr. word?
mr substances, are you really there?
a word is a substance, isn’t it?
i’m not so sure.
substance abuse is a terrible thing. I watched some of my closest friends use, and become addicted to illegal, as well as legal substances. Prescription drugs, although legal, is killing people at a rate comparable to illegal substances, such as cocaine and heroin. Love is also a deadly substance.
Used and abused. Illegal or legal, both are more like than not to be used nowadays, sadly. People have become so irresponsible.
after all i had been through in my life, this was the crutch that finally sent it spiraling out of control. And the biggest joke of it all, it wasn’t me that was suffering from it; abusing it for all its worth. No; it was my own daughter – now being lowered into the ground, lost to me forever
She described the kiss as like the neighboring effect of oil and water, while I imagined it to be like the elevating mercury levels within a fragile thermometer.
substances, i use substances all of the time. like, on the daily. everybody has to. theres so many different kinds. its remarkable. like, theirs illegal kinds, legal kinds, chemical kinds. so many kinds.
The substances dripped from the ceiling. She didn’t dare ask herself what they actually were, only turned her gaze to the floor where they splashed against the dark tiles. Everything here was dark, roof, floor, walls….she didn’t want to think about why that was either. You could hide a lot in black. She smooth her skirt down against her thighs, for a moment distracted by the soft velvet against her skin.
i smoke wired substances
substances. when i think of the word substances i think of bad subtsnaces. like drugs or alcohol. i hate drugs and alcohol. i think they are such a pointless, stupid, ignorant use of time, money and horrible excuse for something to do or an excuse for doing something stupid. everything in life is a choice and if you choose to do that, then i have no sympathy for the consequences following it.
Never have I seen so many. There seemed to be thousands, all in one small room. I feel the heat and smell the fumes. I pray to find an opening, space. The only positive thought I have is that it’s all a dream. For 2 days I’ve been waiting and can’t seem to get out. I cant seem to wake up.
I only know one thing for sure: this substance is dangerous. I don;t know what it does, or how it came to be in my possession. I do believe that it was meant for me, and only me. I cannot let this fall into somebody else’s hands. I can trust no one. There was a note; it was left by this surreptitious jar of black powder. The note read: “Charles, I had to notify you as quickly as possible! I have not much time to spare! Please, take my last of Draught of Death, this is all I have left. I have sent it to you for you are the only man I can trust. They King’s guards are coming soon, surely to execute me. You must protect this Charles! – A.R.B” I haven’t the slightest clue who A.R.B. is. My grandfather was Charles. Was, in the past tense. He died just this morning as he handed me this jar. His last words, “You know what to do…” And to be honest, I do not. I do not want to dishonor my grandfather. I have this sensation, this premonition, this sense, that I have to go to the castle. What I do from there, I haven’t any idea! What this “Draught of Death” does, I do not know. What is my mission? We will soon find out. Hopefully.
fluids are substances, mixes of something you don’t really know anything about
it feels quite awkward and unsincere to deal
There are many different kinds of substances in the world. I don’t know how I happened to stumble across this one, but somehow it became my responsibility. I know this substance – whatever it may be called- in the right hands, has the power to change the world.
what are the substances in life that really matter. the drugs that make us high as the clouds and make everything below us look so small. or is the things that keep us grounded. the family and friends who remind that we are part of this fucked up world and as chaotic as it is, we should be pretty damned happy to be a part of it.
Substances. We have them everywhere. We perceive them differently. I think we just need a reality check. Then we’d finally agree on SOMETHING.
The withered old man tapped a number of unidentifiable substances from jars into his hand then threw them into the small round pot swaying above the fire; a mix of course white powders, a fine black dust, and a couple of round things which looked like dried seedpods which he proceeded to crunch between his palms before dropping the remnants in.
Finally, and quite unexpectedly, he took a fresh green lime from a pocket deep in his rags, cut it in half, then quartered it, juicing three of the quarters into the pot, and, saving the last for himself, biting into it with black and gappy teeth he turned and gave us a cheeky grin, the green lime skin between his lips giving him a comical “lime smile”.
This was some witch doctor….
There were many substances in the container. I looked inside and i asked him “What is this?” He answered “I’m not sure.” Then he looked at me and yelled “DUCK!” and when i did the poisonous substances were thrown across the room. The walls started smoking and it lit on fire. I ran out of the house, but then i realized he was still in there. I ran through all the smoke. The room was on fire. He was on the ground coughing. “Go!” he said. “save yourself!” “I’m not leaving without you!” I yelled. Suddenly behind up part of the ceiling came tumbling down. “We have to go NOW!” i grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He tried to get up, but he pulled me down with him. We both managed to stand up and we ran out of the house. “What was in there!?” i yelled at him.
oh the substances. i do not feel i should talk about them. I am embarrassed, somehow, for they are my vice. I only wish for comfort and solace.
can really fuck you up
in the best ways
in the worst ways
These substances, they control me, they draw me in even though i know they shouldn’t. I hate it i do, but i will do anything for a little more. anything.
Oooh! They can be so freaking treacherous! Sometimes have to hate them =( but it’s still possible to love them, yes… I do, do love them! ADORE! some of them, sure, not, like, every substance ever, no, for sure…
Substances of something, oh I don’t know what to write about substances. please help ””’
things that you mix around and stir together and you put them together and they are both gone and something new , combined, in their place. things that change and milk and eggs and oxygen
The muck that he felt under his skin didn’t feel like a heart or blood pumping in and through his veins. The substances he felt were emotions, and he didn’t much care for it one bit. This would not stand as it were.
The woman took the substance as she was writhing in pain, her whole body screaming against it, telling her to stop. She continued. Her husband came in, furious, knowing what had happened. The substances had gotten to her, and he knew that she would never recover again.
They take up space and are our resources. We use them to attach things to other things – like hearts and minds. We eat them. Drink them. We pull them out of dark places and use them to create other substances. They are building blocks. They occupy space and make us whole.
there are many kinds of substances! liquid solid gas and blah. well i guess if you count f–wait no that was a dumb idea hold on…
uh fuck
my favorite kind of substance is food because im practically always hungry and yeah??? idk. this is dumb everything is dumb why do i suck at writing AUGH. to sum up substances can go far if you think really hard???
I think of drugs, like abusing substances. Alcohol, whatever. A few people who are really important to me have struggled with addiction. But then, you can be addicted to even things that are good and whole. That’s my story.
substances. marijuana. coke. heroine. destruction. addiction. salvation? do they give you substance, or take it away?
one day i woke up and saw a bottle of substances on my desk. so i went ahead and drank all the damn thing.. i died.
substances that are made with edible stuff can be eaten. Such as, mashed potatoes are made of potatoes. potatoes are that very substance that mashed potatoes are made of. But what substance is a potato made of? I don’t know that, either. :D