This is the story of how my life went down hill, very fast.
Preface: My cousin was asking about my story (via text) so I sent him the longest text I've ever sent. Maybe, just maybe, someone will get something from it if I leave it here. It's been almost six years since I've touched a needle and I was 100% sober for almost five. I started experimenting with drugs (weed and shrooms, no alcohol) again a little over a year ago and while a recovering addict using drugs may be taboo, my life has never been better. I've had to step back and take an honest appraisal of my life multiple times, but I always come out on top in the end as long as I recognize (or others point out) the developing negative patterns and do the footwork in the right direction. It's good to be back with the new knowledge of self I learned while I was sober for so many years. There is still so much to be learned.
Anyways, here goes..
It would probably take a lot of psychiatry to find the REAL reason I tried the needle.
It wasn't really curiosity.. I was already well aware how amazing opiates felt, including (snorted) heroin, and had many great experiences with them with no noticeable side effects.. So I guess I figured, "how much different could the needle really be?".
Well, it felt amazing (as expected). It worked so well that I quit "wasting" all my money on other drugs and was almost instantly a sole h user. Some of the guys that turned me on to it would get low and then use there needles to shoot crack so 5 days later I bought $5 worth (like .1g) from some random dude on the corner and split it in half and had a geek like no other. Again, I had done coke many times (sometimes over a G in like 5 minutes) but the needle was waaaaay stronger and waaaaay cheaper. The h takes away all the weird feelings of the geek so it's a popular combo..
Anyways, I managed to keep it together for like a month (not long) until it caught up to me. I quit growing shrooms cause I was to busy getting high so therefore had no income and a large habit. Started selling all my stuff off or trading it for next to nothing until I had absolutely nothing. Then I started stealing from my parents. Once they caught on it was only about another month before they kicked me out. Floated around for a while but friends get tired of your shit real quick when you're fucked up all the time. I had occasionally slept/passed out in this abandoned, half burned down house in the bluff (by far the worst area in Atlanta) and now that I had nowhere to stay I decided to just live there. After all, it was only two houses down from my connect.
I told people I just moved to Atlanta and was trying to get on my feet so they would either buy me food, put me up in a hotel or give me cash. I made anywhere from $20 to $500 (about $150 on average) every day and spent every.single.penny.every.single.day on boy and girl.
I did very well at maintaining the high. I would even go as far to say that I was content (as long as I was high, of course).
Every morning as soon as my eyes opened for the first time I would roll over, grab the shot I prepared the night before and IM (intramuscular) through all the blankets and everything. It was winter so I'd be too cold and shaking to IV..
The (very) brief moment of consciousness before the effect set in each morning was the only time of my day I could feel. Remorse, dread, shame, anxiety, fear, hate and resentment to the extreme, all at once, to the Nth magnitude, flooded my mind.
I never want to feel that way again.
That moment is why I quit.*
*Note I did not just quit. It took a hell of a lot of hard work and pain and multiple years of rehabilitation. If anyone wants to hear the recovery aspect of it, just say so and I'll type it up. Thanks for reading!
-------------------- Everything I say is fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
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