Monday, March 13, 2017

An Angry Sky

The sky opened up. It started to rain, raining buckets. I thought I would drown if I played my cards right. All I was playing was broken hearts. I looked for the connection. Even Mexican drug dealers have limitations. He wore a garbage bag poncho, unprepared for the Northern California weather.

"Uno", I told him. I really wanted two. I NEEDED two. One wasn't going to do shit.

He looked around before he spit the dope into his hand. In his confusion, he gave me a half instead of a quarter. I wasn't going to complain. I've seen junkies try to get brownie points by mentioning errors in the transaction. Oh look- you gave me x.y,z. Fuck all that. It is me verses everyone.

I look into his brown eyes. How old is he? Where did he come from. The last one told me he was 15, brought up her from Mexico specifically to sell dope with his cousin. The one before him was 14. They are all disposable- just like me. They grow fuzzy patches of facial hair to try to make themselves look older. When I was 14, I was still sleeping with a stuffed animal. I still would be if I wouldn't have lost my innocence somewhere on this street.

I look for a corner dry enough to sustain my activities. I look for a vein strong enough to carry away my burdens. I was hoping the rain would drown me. I was hoping I would die but I woke up today. I know this hit won't kill me. Maybe, just maybe, it can make me feel  again.

Friday, March 3, 2017

The Last Day I Used Drugs 2017 edition.

This week marked 19 years since I quit using drugs. I had planned this elaborate post outlining all the horrors that drug use brought me that I was going to share with you. Then, the strangest thing happened. I went out on a long walk around the city I love with a new friend. When I got home, I was simply too happy to take myself back into that place.

Depression is a comfortable sweater for me. Only there are times when I really want to change my clothes. I took off all those layers of anxiety and that veil of sadness a few times this week. I have to say, it felt REALLY fucking good. There are many days over the past 19 years when I have wondered if my brain will ever recover from the damage I did to it. Between the heroin, the crack, the 4-6+ days up on amphetamines, to the copious amounts of benzos, I have feared for my long term sanity. Getting together and talking to another person who has the same issues made me feel like I am not so isolated. In fact, there ARE people who want to be around me. I just shut them out because I am afraid of being hurt or somehow unworthy of affection. It is a vicious cycle of self doubt. For whatever reason, I really spent some quality time with quality people this week. I realized my world is a small as I allow it to be.

I get asked alot- why don't you just put all this behind you? The truth is that I can't forget it. The reminders are there every single day. First of all, I have abscess that are on all my limbs. Between that and the collapsed veins, their is more than enough physical evidence that using was huge part of my left. Second of all, I am a convicted felon. This impacts my freedoms. Third, there are no pictures of me from my senior year of high school to my first year clean with the exception of police booking photos and the movie "Black Tar Heroin: The Dark End of the Street". Finally, the vast majority of my friends are dead. Writing and talking about them keeps them alive.

I don't have a gory tale this year. Don't worry, I have plenty stored for next time!