Day 6 of my rehabilitation

I don't know what bongsbay is, but that's apparently where the image came from.  That's not the point.  Today is my sixth day of cleanliness; that's right.  I haven't smoked any reefer in those days' time, and I don't intend to do it anymore for quite a while.  "But why, sir?  What's brought you to this level of aboriginalism?" you might ask between tokes from the tobacco pipe.  I would look you blankly in the face and spit at you with pure wrath.  "My fucking heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest every time I do it, you bloody child!"  That's why.  For some ungodly reason, my heart randomly wants to dance around on me - rapidly.

Symptoms:
- Rapid heartbeat
- Sweaty palms
- Lightheaded
- Fear of death
- Fear of insanity
- FEAR!

That's why I think they're panic attacks.  But I still don't know.  I won't have health insurance until a few weeks from now (or ever), but if/when I do get it, I'll be going in immediately to some sort of medical depot to have my chest evaluated.  Those ER visits yielded no results.  They looked at me like I was some sort of junkie freak when I came in complaining of a fast heartbeat.  And it was all over the place, ranging from 80 - 130 BPM and rapidly changing.  So they did some tests, an EKG and an x-ray, but the results showed that there were "no abnormalities beside an irregular heartbeat."  That's still an abnormality, man.  The doctor told me an irregular beat is "normal for kids," but I'm not so much of a kid anymore.  That, and I've done some things that can be damaging to internal organs: benadryl and robitussin overdose, inhalants, excessive energy drinking.  I'm not so sure things are a-okay, but I'll keep my fingers crossed until I know what's really going on.

The x-ray technician told me a story about some drug addict that was beaten severely by the tech's friend, and then by the addict's own roommate in the course of a week.  A few days later, he said, the cracker OD'ed and died.  His parting words before leaving me on the hospital bed were: "he was an addict, and he deserved what he got.  He wasn't contributing anything to society, and he probably would have ended up in jail in six months anyway."  The tech was a nice guy, though, and raised my spirits with some good humor before telling me this tragic tale; that was all it took to bring my heart back to a level level.  But the idea stuck with me - am I just another junkie too, smoking weed daily and doing nothing for my America?  Should I be dead?  I think that's just some morbid bullshit I'm telling myself to subconsciously hold myself back, so I'm not going to read too much into it.

But the fact remains: I am sober as of now.  I'm still doing drugs daily if you count nicotine, but I don't see it as a narcotic, so I won't for my own sake and sanity.  Can I keep this up?  Do these six days mean anything in the grand scheme of things?  Stay tuned, you random six people that stumble across this, and you'll see some crazy shit.  If I do smoke the ganj, I will be back on here posting some psychedelic nonsense whilst it's going on, because that's how much of a two-sided monkey I am.  So, in the immortal words of Laurence Fishburne in Event Horizon, "fuck this ship!"