Rehab – Day Four
Arose at roughly ten past seven this morning and immediately – for the first time, might I add – let the geese, hens and ducks out of their nightly quarters. After furnishing them with grain, I collected the night’s batch of eggs. They are relatively small and have a pale, blemish free shell. In the grain store is a print-out about the breed, the name of which I must remember to note down, as they are rare hens that were on the edge of extinction, according to M——- (the blonde lady; she comes across as very ‘farm-y’ and showed me yesterday the incubator, full with eggs waiting to hatch tomorrow).
Being here has made me think about my future, whether I want to live in the city or not. I think I’d like to move to the outskirts of F——– after (if I am able) either a Studium or an Ausbildung.
Why can’t I feel anything? I know why: the anti-depressants. I don’t feel depressed, naturally, but I also don’t feel happy…or anything, really. I keep trying to make myself sad but it doesn’t work. I am sick, sick, sick of it. I want to take drugs. I want to inject myself with heroin or crack. At the moment, even though I am still on Polamethadone – Al— just came in to ‘lend’ me his tobacco, filters and cigarette machine because he knows I haven’t got any money or Tabak. It would have brought a tear to my eye if I wasn’t made of stone – I would – oh God, just came back and told me to finish the tin. Yeah, shed a tear but pretty sure it was just for show – definitely hit that brown. I need sister Heroin to soothe my soul. Golden brown.