the truth about pills

I don't want to write about a conversation that i am making up. You know? Wouldn't you rather, actually have a conversation, with all its flaws; nerves maximized due to the reality of the situation, fumbling over simple words already spoken a million times in your life right until this point. This, I guess, is my problem. I want to live fantasy and believe it so much that i cant write about it. That's what I try every day to sit down and do. Oh, no forgetting this is how I want to achieve a lifestyle I feel is suitable for me. Taking drugs that I used to ensure people I was only taking because they helped me write. Now, I can't seem to go a whole day without taking any pain pills or smoking pot. i used to think, when i was younger, that this would be the prime of my life. Indulging, all day, taking whatever drugs I could get quickest, pushing out novels and partying the rest of the night. As long as I had three hours between me and the time I had to be at work, things were going alright.
I just spent all week trying to do this same exact thing. Pills for my writing. I go as long as possible without making the call. yeah i managed to stop asking Paula; an employee of mine that's been working at our store for like 30 years. She's nice and I can get them when ever I want because I have her conned into thinking I have permanent sever damage on my lower back. (Something that never really existed until I stopped taking the pills). But i can't continue to be seen on camera getting little yellow pills from an elderly woman, right next to the cash registers. I might be an addict but I know how to keep a job. At least, the one I have now I've kept for three years. then i got fired, but not because of the pills paula would 'accidently' spill onto the register when paying for some candy. She's just now going on break, a fifteen is what we call them. only thing is she'll walk around the store asking the other employees if they want some of what she's just bought. fifteen minuets later she'll walk back by my counter and I'll, "yes, please" her candy and see her off to start the break that really just ended for her. I don't care though, cause I'm completely fucked up by the time she gets back up to the front of the store and the only thing on my mind is if she's going to take her whole fifteen cause I need to smoke. But no, I didn't loose my job because of the pills, I lost my job from stealing money out of the safe. I needed to pay back people on some pills I'd got fronted. There was a song I heard once when I was younger, a rap song that one of the lines said, "Do it like the white man IOU." I hated that I lived up to that standard but then again I didn't care because at this point in my life I had more connection than I had ever dreamed of... and I loved it. Paula and I don't talk anymore and I hate that the last time we did talk I used her for pills, telling her that I would take care of her extremely unkempt yard for five yellows. I got the pills up front and her yard never got finished.