((edit: WARNING Forum post is in character, and deals with some adult themes.))
...The snip feeling I felt as the stim broke the skin and injected its contects into my bloodstream (could it be called blood anymore?) was a relief. Back on the streets, back in the game, every...thing. Just makes me feel so alive.
My internal circuitry chirps and hums, but possibly thats only in my mind. Hell, my mind is just a single piece of ancient technology derived from some ancient race of hyperintellegent somethings. Frankly I couldn't care.
I run various odd jobs to support my stim habit. I have this tendency to not really give a damn about anything, really. I mean whats the point? I die, a new body is processed and relocated, my mind and internal memories are piped in, circuit to circuit, and I am back. I'm afraid I lost my soul a long time ago, despite what those wretched nanomages say, and I am afraid it can not be found again.
I guess that is the appeal of the mystical place... Shadowlands. Perhaps I can find what I am searching for there... well. Hah. I'm lying to myself again. The only thing I care about is when my next "fix" is coming.
I woke up on the streets of Borealis today, in an alleyway behind the armor shop. I was covered in sweat and bathed in my own vomit. No one seemed to care really. Why should they? If I die, like new again. Hell a compassionate person would just crank a bullet into my head and call themselves a savior. Sure, people look worriedly at my constant abuse of narcotics, the various chemicals I inject into my system; half of them are legal strangly. Whatever. I'm sidetracked.
I really ****ing hate when I get sidetracked.
The snip feeling I felt as the stim broke the skin and injected its contects into my bloodstream was a relief. It is the only way I can even wake up anymore. The RK sun was glaring down on me, my skin already felt baked. I stood, and stretched. Man I felt like hell. Like someone rammed molten metallic rods into my heart by going down through my throat. I drug myself to my apartment to freshen up, although if you asked me why, I couldn't tell you.
My commlink started beeping. S*** 6 new messaged. Aparently a few from last night, a few from this morning. Deleted. The sun from Jobe looks marvelous, almost reminding me of my first few days walking through the harbor, amazed at this new and, dare I say, magical world.
*pht-oo*
I should really stop spitting on my floor, even if it is because of my unwilling anger towards my innocent ignorance from the past. ....where is....where...there
*clk* *pssssshhhh*
Nguh. I really should get the injection point looked at. You would think that injecting things into my body that would make a geiger counter explode would kill any sort of infection that might arise. (Hell, kill anything for that matter) UUgghghh, here come the shakes. Wheres my guns. Today is going to be a good one.