Guns, Bitches, and Money

I will state for the record that I am incredibly grateful that a confidential informant told on me. This was the reason I was arrested, which lead to me going to treatment.  The last few months of my addiction were completely insane even by my standards. For whatever reason, the people who had been supplying me my drugs decided it was time for me to start selling them. This idea almost killed me.

The fantasy of every user is to have a bottomless supply of drugs. I think there are two kinds of addicts: drug hogs and maintenance users. I was a maintenance user. I never did more than I thought I could handle at one time. I also never used more than what I thought I could hustle up in one day. I liked my drugs. I also liked being alive to use them. I have seen many addicts get pissed when they are revived from an overdose -"why didn't you let me go? It was my time!" Okay, you selfish bitch. Next time, I will let you die. See what happens. Not only will I go to prison for not doing anything but I will probably feel bad because you are dead! These people are usually the drug hogs. They want to do ALL the drugs then complain how sick they are when they should have saved a little.

Selling drugs sucks when you are an addict. How much can I use of my own supply? Then you are having to turn sick people down all day long. Then people are willing to degrade themselves while you are witness and collect on their misery. In addition, there is the issues of storage of said drugs. It seems like drugs and money spend a lot of time nestled in the crotch area. And five hundred dollars in a condom in your vagina is not comfortable in case you wondered about it. Nor is a package that has to be sorted through by touch while one leg is up on a car. It's a wonder I ever had children at all with the amount of bacteria that was up in that area.

 Having a bottomless supply made it easier for me to use more, care less. Not more heroin, more of everything I could get my hands on. I liked to use heroin, speed and coke in the same syringe. I would feel normal, just for a few minutes. Then my mood would be as dark as my circumstances until i had time to get that perfect combination. nothing made me happy except money and freedom. Honestly, I did not have much of either. I was working around the clock but I was always alone. I trusted no one, including myself.

Finally, there is the paranoia. Is this person trying to rob me? Yes. It happened a few times. I have had a knife to my throat. Ive had guns pulled on me. That time I told the person "shoot me, kill me, do me a favor". Nothing really made me afraid except facing myself.Where are the cops? I've been stopped, searched, choked by the police. It all is part of my experience at the time. Then I would have to go back to my room, drink tons of water, and throw all the drugs back up. Counting balloons in my puke. Good times. I would do hits of coke to celebrate, feel like I was going to die of a heart attack but I couldn't tell anyone because  I was too paranoid they would take my stash and leave me to die. Good friends, huh?! Many times, I just used alone. I would be sticking needles in between my toes wondering when all of this would end.

When I finally left in handcuffs, I was ready for a new life. There were some guns, a few bitches (mostly about "I'm so sick") as oppsed to reall bitches,  and some money. I was not a legend nor a hero. No one missed me. I was replaced within a few days. My new life, however, is completely irreplaceable to me. Clean and slightly crazy.

This is me and my homegirl in 98. We were clean but not cured by any standards.

Comments

  1. AnonymousJune 19, 2013 at 12:38 AM

    Cool picture, did she stayed clean?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415June 19, 2013 at 5:21 AM

      She has been clean for almost two years now She took a detour at the state prison

      Delete
  2. AnonymousJune 19, 2013 at 5:43 AM

    Good to know, I hope she stays that way for good.

    ReplyDelete

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