traceyh415

"What are you going to do about that thing? he asks. I pull up my shorts. "I am going to drain it." I tell him. He gives me a look of feigned disgust. This isn't his first time at the junkie rodeo. "Right here?" he asks. I start looking for a good spot to poke. "yes," I tell him "right here." The question was pretty ridiculous. Where else am I going to go to get my leg sliced open on a Sunday. There is no way in hell I am traveling all the way out to San Francisco General to get this cut open. After waiting dopeless for 6-8 hours for them to clear gunshot victims, they would finally get some medical resident to hack away at me while they generously provided me with MAYBE 10mg of methadone to tie me over. I can't do it. I couldn't hop the Muni to make it there even if I tried. Overnight, my knee and began to swell to the point that my appendage looks like a hot, red tree trunk. I no longer have a knee. I just have a single ...

The pride I had once held on to in my early-mid twenties is now gone. Vanished over the last year. I watched my brother become slave to it and end up in jail for 26 months. I always said that it would never, ever be me. I'm too happy with my life. I have a good head on my shoulders. Why would I ever turn to drugs to forget the good life I was living? Then the unthinkable happened. I never saw it coming. It ripped me from end to end for over a year and I still am dealing with the torment of finding another woman in bed with the man I loved. The man I changed my entire life for. A man I begged to understand so that I could be 110% supportive of all of his choices. He was the center of my world at a time when I should have been the center of my world. He sucked the life right out of me and when I had nothing left, he moved on to easier prey. A younger, more naive woman who would sympathize with his situation. She enveloped herself with him and his life/transformation. It was like ...

I didn't start sticking a needle in my arm because my life was working well for me. I started using drugs because I was depressed and lonely. When I was young, I remember the feeling of never feeling like I belonged anywhere. I grew up with the same set of kids from K-8. It should have created some sense of normalcy to know things were going to be the same from year to year. Instead it made me feel trapped. I always had the sense that I was smaller than everyone, that I was somehow insignificant. Being fat and wearing glasses certainly didn't help. I was the last kid picked on the team, of course. The last person anyone wanted to spend time with in any way shape or form. I felt powerless until I found drugs. Drugs made me feel powerful. Drugs made me feel important. I felt a smug sense of satisfaction when I ran into one of the most popular kids from my elementary school when I was in my 20's. He was fiending for more cocaine. Here you are bitch boy- in my world trying ...

  It was nearly 8,640  minutes ago that I got that phone call.  A short 144  hours ago in which  our life  drastically changed. The past 6  days blew by quicker than I can even explain. I am having a hard time putting  into words about the  amount of feelings that has spewed out of every family member around me over this time .   I  can only  begin to  imagine what the next few days will bring . The so-called personal “cocktail” of our own complications was served up well; mixed with 1 part anger, 2 parts confusion, and 3 parts sadness. We all down ed  our very own remedy ; a drink that was more than bittersweet . For some, it made us stronger and for others  this  self-medication made them worse. Even when death is expected, no one can prepare you for  how your mind ,  body,  and spirit  will react to it; not exactly anyways. As I entered the hospital, I watched my father lose grasp of h...

Mornings blurred into evenings into mornings again. It seemed as if this winter was one long attempt of mother nature to break my spirit. Rain and the homeless junkie do not mix. The shelters are constantly full. I wouldn't bother going into one anyway. The few times I went in there to sleep on the floor, the staff acted like jailers. There is a complete loss of humanity when you have to ask a person for permission to use the bathroom. They hand you toilet paper or soap as if you have asked them for some type of severe inconvenience. "Ugh," the man groans as he reaches under the counter. It's not like I asked him for one of the candy bar he has stashed in there, the ones he eats gingerly in front of the hungry patrons of this establishment. I have a brief reprieve from the outdoors. My new "friend" got their social security disability check and was willing to have me over for a few days. I guess they felt sorry for me. His apartment is on the sixth floor o...

Every day when I wake up and open my eyes, I get the same feeling and questions: "Heroin, do i love it or hate it ? I need it or want it !?" Every night I feel sad and angry of myself because of how I became. I manipulate people for my sake, Hurt them so deep and leave horrible wounds in their hearts. These souls are  not forgiving, like before. Turned from funny, lovely and nice guy who support and forgive everyone even who hurts me, to an devil. With another question "do i enjoy this or i have to be like this !?" I was like two different characters. They have been fighting each other for around 3 years. The insanity of Traveling every week to the desert to buy a large quantity directly from Bedouins. I act like an dealer to make sure I get good dope  and save money. With more, I was facing real danger.  Saw the death so many times in middle of gun battles between Bedouins and Cops. I was close to be arrested by cops. For heroin in Egypt, I would spend 7 t...

When I was around 10 years old, a friend of my father's touched me in a way that was inappropriate. My father had these drinking buddies of his. They were men who were rough around the edges. My mother would not allow his friends over the house. I now have an understanding as to why. My father had a rough upbringing where he learned about pool sharks, carnies, and men with four fingers. When I was in jail, my father told me "all my friends are in the cemetery or the penitentiary". In the early years. I worshipped my father, despite his alcoholism. I always took it personally if he would go out on the weekend leave me behind. I am not sure how he made it home on drunken autopilot. I suppose he could have curbed some of his urges for the sake of the children but it seems unlikely. Maybe he became less and less functional over time. I remember one time he took me to the office on a Saturday. He left me alone and bored in some one's cubicle. I began pulling open drawers...