traceyh415

"I thought we were friends " I said slapping myself in the forehead. Fuck how could I be so stupid. "I don't have a fucking friends" he told me. "Just acquaintances" This is what my life has come to- this place. Being fucking burned by someone I trusted. How could I be so fucking stupid, I mumbled to myself. At first, I was experimenting. I was partying. I had a few friends. We pooled our money. We looked out for each other. We had this THING. There was this THING that we did together. And this THING was good. It was very very fucking good. There was nothing better than having a cold glass of water I could barely sip, sitting next to a friend on the couch. The only burns I had to worry about involved my shoulder and a wayward cigarette. And that was okay. Then I started to shoot up more. Lines are crossed. Hey, I thought we were doing this THING together. What do you mean you are going to quit? What do you mean you are ready to stop? What do y...

I would have sold my soul for my next shot, but the guy at the pawn shop didn't see any value in it.          I found heroin when I was 16. It provided me with the warmth and peace that I had been longing for my whole life. I remember seeing friends strung out and always thought to myself "that will never be me, I have a good head on my shoulders". For the first couple years, it wasn't me. I graduated highschool with a 3.5gpa and already had a couple of college classes completed. On the outside everything looked very good. Shortly after entering college I found the needle. I was too afraid to hit myself and ever since I was a little boy I was deathly afraid of needles. I put my right arm out and turned my head to the left, "God damn you have nice veins", I remember my friend saying as he pushed the plunger in. "3...2...1....", oh God, never in my life had I felt such a feeling. At that moment, heroin became the most important thing in my life. No...

"Show me some love here Angel " I say in a shaky voice. " qué? " he asks. He decided to start up his own business and poached my number one day. He asked me to meet him at a taqueria out on 24th street. I was not a Mission girl. I had tried to cop there before. I wasn’t familiar with the home bums, the gangsters, and people who looked like dealers but were actually just down on their luck hustlers. In the Tenderloin, things were easy to discern with a glance. Follow the traffic. If a dealer has a bunch of people coming up to him, he is in business. If things are not moving in his direction, he is the last choice. This guy was new to the set. He still had an actual JOB. The set up was fairly simple. If you wanted a quarter gram, you asked for a “special” chicken soft taco. You paid with thirty dollars. If you wanted a half gram, you asked for two chicken soft tacos and paid fifty dollars. I never knew dope and tacos could be so fucking delicious. Since that...

"This is the last time forever. I swear, babe..." he says.  I have heard this words before. This is a familiar lie. Like him explaining "I need to do more ". I chirp back "Huh?" We both are sick. Does junkie love make us equals, No He is up to tricks. "Well you know I need more dope ' he says  as he starts to rub my shoulder. "I weigh more and got a higher tolerance " he claims,  as his bullshit gets a little bolder. I start to watch his mixing anxiously.  I suspect a fight might ensue. "Here you go my love " he says  "fifty for me and thirty for you." I want to punch him in the head.  He is suck a fucking liar. His pupils are little tiny specks. He just wants to get a little higher. This is my life. This is my love.  I pull out a bag I will not share. I look at his dreaming face- "This is the last time forever. I swear..."

I will be reborn. I will shake my old skin. I will evolve from trial by fire. 

I wanted to reprint this email from last year. I get contacted by many friends and family. I had been corresponding with this mother. She wanted some insight into her son. I cannot imagine her pain. I have experienced the loss of so many people from overdoses, I honestly start to lose count. I can easily name twenty without much effort.  Please be safe today. Someone, somewhere loves you. I love you. I was you. You matter to someone.  Hi Tracey-  My son didn't make it. 1yr using, 5yrs methadone. He tapered off, in my opinion too quickly, then used-  after drinks with friends  (non-users)  Killing him - three days dead on the floor I found him.  I thought he was doing great! I kept asking him "are you ok? Are you sure?"  He always said he was fine.  What I was clueless to was how hard it was to come off methadone.  I hate myself for not knowing enough about this insidious disease.  I wish I could save someone.

As he placed his hand over my throat, he whispered "Don't scream " It was summer time. It was hot outside. I went looking for him but I did not care if I found him. I no longer cared about anything. The life force that had gone through my beating heart had traveled out into a useless receptacle. He held my life in his hands. He was a rabid cat playing with a meager mouse. When I was young, I wanted everyone to like me. I did not understand that I was different. My parents swore that I was special. Special meant I was fragile. Special meant I would cry at the television. Why was Jesus put on the cross for cruxifiction? I asked my mother in tears. Why were they so mean to him. I saw the movie Logan's Run. I wanted to be one of the young people that was pulled into the light while everyone celebrated my demise. I could not imagine beyond thirty, beyond twenty five. I was so young and naive. Those blue eyes pulled him in. That is what he claimed. My eyes saw him in ...

I wear this shell around me hoping that no one will even come in.  I wear this extra baggage. It has become as thick as my skin. "Fatty and skinny went to bed. Fatty rolled over and skinny was dead." I was being taunted by this fucking asshole but I didn't even care. I had finally snapped out of my walking coma. What the fuck was happening to my mind. I had not been right in the head since that thing had happened a few weeks back. I had a this guy try to rape me by overamping me on speed. I was tired and he caught me in weak moment. Once I agreed to go inside with him, I knew I was trapped. I was trapped in a sex trap he had maneuvered before. I found this out years later in recovery. As a symbolic gesture, I had decided to make a statement against this man. I made a statement to the sex crimes unit. I easily picked him out of a photo line up. The statue of limitations against rape in California at the time was only two years. I knew that face as the pic looked ba...