It's 6am and all I can think about is scoring heroin...I'm not sure how I ended up in this situation, wait....that's a lie. I know exactly how this escalated to black tar. I followed that curious cat down the wrong alley, tripped, slipped and fell nose first into a pile of brown powder...well,fuck me....let's get this show on the road.
630 am "maybe he's awake, should I try calling?"
I mean, the sun is almost up and he MIGHT be up....That's the logic of an addict, I know damn well he won't be awake for at least 4 more hours..and that's still not likely, my call log is more like a continual spiral into drug craving madness.
745am While my cravings are completely mental, that voice in my head just won't shut the fuck up...That gorilla on my back weighs 800 lbs and he's a mean fucker when he doesn't get his way. He's a master manipulator and will speak to you smoother than a seasoned pimp mackin to a fresh bitch on the track. He's taken up residence on my left shoulder, like a belligerent squatter refusing to leave. At times he's calm and smooth and can give me all the right answers when I need to make excuses about my drug use and where all the money I've made is......but he's Bi-polar as a muthafucka. In a flash he can transform into the raving uncontrollable beast that brings me into the abyss of self destruction..
For the past 3 days he's been on a rampage, he knows my drug break is up...he was on a warpath until I tricked him back into his cage.
About 3 weeks ago I told my dealer to cut me off...this was after several scary black outs at home, my girlfriend definitely knew I was fucked up on something.... Xanax and heroin can throw you into a helluva stupor...if you are reading this you have either been in one or have seen someone in one. This is the walking zombie syndrome, when the nod takes over and you fall asleep standing up...mid speech...in the middle of the he meal..it doesn't matter, you will only know it's hit you when you snap out of it.
Like an extra in "the walking dead" your body is there but your mind and soul are ultimately gone
This is known as the "dope fiend lean " and it defies all logic of balance, some people will be full on touching their toes while nodding out while standing...others turn into bobblehead dolls and their heads just dangle about.
I was the walking dead...slamming into walls, almost crashing through the shower doors and shattering them in the bathroom. .. I snapped a chair in half after collapsing into it...it was pretty scary that she saw and heard me like that. If she catches me I'll lose her...there's no coming back from "oh yeah by the way I got a small problem, it's heroin but I promise to stop"
Knowing damn well I wouldnt...
"THE ANTICIPATION ON PLEASURE OR PAIN IS ALWAYS GREATER THAN THE REALITY OF IT"
As I sit here thinking that the high I'm chasing is some fantastic orgasmic feeling of pure euphoria, it's not...and it hasn't been for a long time. I use alone so the social aspect is gone, and having to hide the habit and the high is getting to be too much. How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy myself when I have to hide it?
The answer....a drug vacation day. I put in an order for 5 grams of black tar, knowing that the chances are slim of this happening the way I am planning it. Called in sick to work to score heroin and get high....Yeah I'm sick alright..sick in the fucking head. One day this whole shit show will be exposed to the world and they will know my secret. While I clean up nice and can play chameleon on most situations to blend in, I'm sure everyone I know has caught me in a nod once...and I've been able to blame my insomnia for most of it.
See, I've battled insomnia ever since my last long term relationship...and it was with that bitch Crystal. See, before brown sugar was my sweetener of choice I dabbled into the world of high grade stimulants. Beautiful shards of all shapes and sizes were crushed and sniffed or smoked. My girlfriend at the time liked it, and I was trying to play it cool and party with her even though it wasn't my thing.
See, the stint I served in the Amphetamine Penitentiary was during a different era, we didn't have the quality these tweekers have...our shit was just that, shit.
Crank was a filthy predecessor of crystal meth around the 90s, but it was what we had. Rose, Peanut butter, and others dirty white powders were the flavors available. We didn't have these magnificent shards of glass that looked like they were stolen from a chandelier...we had shit that tasted like it was made in a motel bathroom. You could see the pink from the benadryl they were using...sometimes the dope would still be wet. Leave a line of this stuff on a CD case too long and it would seemingly begin to eat away at the plastic ...and we happily snorted this shit by the boatload with no concern.
I didn't enjoy smokin meth because it never really got me high like everyone said...until one day. I was renting a room in these shitty apartments by the freeway, most are occupied by section 8'ers or dopefiends...I ended up with a section 8 dopefiend, such a winning combo
I was green to crystal meth and the glass pipe wasn't my specialty, she would fire it up and tell me when to hit it...and after a few hits I got the hit that changed my life.
"Whoa....so THAT is what everyone is talking about!!!!" as I feel a tingle just flow through my body like a low voltage electric buzz...we smoked more and fucked like rabbits until the next day. I was selling crystal at the time and had around an ounce or so usually with me at any time....until I broke the commandment of "never eating high on your own supply"
Little did she know I was barely sleeping 3 hours a night after that, and was smokin my way into meth psychosis. I was able to hide it well enough, but what happened was just more of us using together. She wasn't hooked but liked to party...so I played along. While we'd get high on the weekend together...
"First me and Crystal on saw each other on the weekends,
But now Im hiding my tweekin
and seeking her out everyday in between em"
And that's how I ended up on meth for about a year or so.
I sit here at Ocean Beach and watch the waves roll in and outt... pop another xanax to hopefully calm the beast....and wait.
I picked up some good weed from the club to try and calm King Kong down for awhile. They called the stuff Gorilla Glue,ho fitting,hopefully it will do the trick... the names of weed nowadays is pretty interesting...hopefully this glue will keep my mind stuck on something other than heroin.
As I smoke my joint and watch the waves flow, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and for a split second I forget all about dope and just enjoy the view..the weed elevates my mood for the moment and I'm at piece...
I look down at the halfway burned joint and mumble to myself "this shit is the bomb" I drift off into a dreamy haze with the sound of the ocean and seagulls. For a brief moment I forget about heroin and fall into the comfortable bliss of the xanax and weed...it's such a beautiful day, I remember so many good times here. My car engine still running, I pass out and let time fly.....worry free
And then the beast jolts me from my slumber....fuck, did I miss his call? How long have I been asleep....? FUCK!
It's now 1130 am....is he awake yet? By my logic it should be a decent time to try and call someone...or maybe not? I dialed his number and listen.....one ring....2 rings, 3 rings..
The 4th ring means he not answering and inside I pray he answers.
"YEAH...what's up? "
Why does he bother asking this?
You know what the fuck is up, I need to get high because I sure the fuck didn't call to say good morning, make small talk, and discuss the weather.
"It's all good but you gotta wait until around 3 to get it"
A four hour wait for heroin feels like 12 hours in my mind, but what can I do? I make sure to remind him I need 5 grams, because he'll forget and only have 2 to spare. He sounds annoyed but at this point I don't give a fuck, I want my dope....
It could be worse, I could be left to scouring the streets of the Tenderloin and taking my chances with strangers hopin for a friendly face....which is an endless roulette wheel of possible rip offs. I should be thankful that I have a direct phone number to the devil himself and he answers my calls for the most part.
How can so much emotion and joy be created by this small ball of black goop. This sticky tar has so much power to be just an inanimate object..once it touches you, there are thousands of unseen teeth that sink deep into your soul.
Heroin has no soul, but it can permeate yours and cause it to disintegrate rapidly and causes necrosis of the soul. When Im high, nothing matters...I am numb to the world and my mind is no longer racing with madness.
I enjoy the bliss off slipping in and out of a conscious reality and into my personal dreamland. In a nod..a single thought manifests into a detailed dream, each new nod takes me down another rabbit hole in my twisted mind. But the true bliss is the complete numbness to anxiety, worry, stress and fear..
It's funny how this can ease the pain on life in an instant. The most stressful day is instantly relieved once that double wrapped plastic package is secured. After 3 days of a drought and no connections, today felt like fucking Christmas and Junkie Jesus smiled upon me. 5 grams of tar and I'll get through another couple of days before the carousel begins again.
The cycle of addiction is hard to break when the monkey lives on your shoulder and is constantly whispering sweet nothings in your ear....life itself doesn't feel the same without hop and I hate that my peace of mind and happiness is routinely based on copping. I try and pass the time by reading stories on r/opiates to help me realized I could be in a much worse situation..
I could be using dirty toilet water to try and get a hit from old cottons, or I could be puking my guys out and I fully blown withdrawal shitting on myself in a SRO in the TL. I'm not trying to say my struggle is worse than anyone elses, because I know it isnt...but it is still a struggle for me mentally and controls me more than I would like it to..and this is just my story.
36 phonecalls in a single day to the same number are a clear sign of a problem, and I sit here and wonder how much of a dopefiend he sees me as. See, my dealer is also one of my best friends....while dope brought us together, we formed a bond and treat each other like real family..a twisted misfit bunch of dysfunctional addicts. We don't just meet up for transactions, we actually hang out and have a friendship..
This friendship of course gets rough when the main dope man aint around, he can't cop, meaning I can't either and it turns into phone tag and text relays.
Yeah, I could hit 16th or head over to the TL and try and cold cop....but I got a family, a job, and a lot to lose if I were to get busted. My boy Irish aka Big Rich was my sidekick in the L's, he knw every spot, every dealer and could get us some action within few blocks of browsing.. Rich died alone in an alley in the Central Valley during a relapse and overdosed. Xanax and Heroin killed my boy.
And that's the same combination in my system now.....I pray for the strength to break free from this. I've done it before, it can be done again.
Until that day comes, I'll live this life day by day....praying for the courage to face life without the need to escape reality, but to face it head first without a crutch.
There is something in life I have yet to discover that will mean more to me than getting high...I struggle daily to find and accept this, and pray for the epiphany that will save my life in the long run.
Until then I'm taking my spare change, tossing it into my pill bottle with some mannitol and a chunk of black tar and drift off into my personal land of peace....without worry, anxiety or the ability to give a fuck for a few moments of incoherent bliss...
May God grant me another day of life and allow me to wake up from my self inflicted euphoria....
Thank you for reading.....you are not alone..