The Brick

There have been a few major loves in my life. My husband. My children, of course. And heroin.

"Why did you do it?" she asks me.
It is hard to answer that question. I started out this world as an innocent wide eyed girl. I had a question for everything. I had a great sense of curiosity. Why was the sky blue? Why doesn't the water stay warm? Why is it that the birds all leave when the snow comes. I wanted to know a little bit of everything.

As I got a little bit older, my questions started to change. I saw the world through the same lenses, my things seemed to get murkier. Why do those boys pick on me? Why did Jesus have to die? Why is it that Daddy made you cry. There were things I wanted to know, there were things that required an answer. The world, I learned was just the magical place where everything synced together in harmony. Some things were cruel. Some of the edges were jagged. If I played with the stove, I was going to get burned.

Heroin. Why did it seem so appealing. This isn't a question. It is more of a statement, an affirmative. Why did it seem so appealing? If you could go back to that moment when you thought maybe you would try heroin, what would you tell yourself? What were you thinking? Was it just that weed was not enough or you were just tired of paying all that money for a few little pills. Heroin. Even the name sounds exciting. Like you are going to be transported to an exotic land where people feed you figs and fuck you all while rubbing your feet at the same time.

The first time I did heroin, I injected it. I am going to tell you a secret, I was fucking TERRIFIED. I was so god damned scared. I was too afraid to tell the other people that I was with that I didn't want to do it. Before we could even get to me, my friend ODed. He was dragged into the shower, the whole inexperienced routine. Do you still want to do it? Yes?! I said meekly. Of course, I want to do it. Of course, I want to let people I barely trust poke a needle into my arm and inject a deadly substance to my heart. Because, why wouldn't I, right? I bought the shit! I was so tough...so hard. I didn't even know what hard was at that moment. Hard came much later.

Hard came when I saw 15 year old girls turning tricks. Hard came when I saw 13 year old boys getting picked up by 45 year old married lawyers so they could have the boy shit on a glass table while they jacked off underneath (true story). Hard was when I had a broken nose and two black eyes because my boyfriend hit me then held me down and asked me to whisper that I loved him. Am I losing my mind? I saw my body above me. I laid there in my white nightgown. I had stopped screaming because no one was coming to help. When he let me go, I wanted drugs. Of course I did. Of course we all do. There was this overwhelming sense of curiosity once. Remember it? Remember when the world was a good place. Children used to smile in your direction.

One night my girlfriend had hit the street to try to make some money. Her boyfriend was gone. He was out somewhere, probably getting drunk. One of the last times I had seen him we were staying in an abandoned museum drinking 40s and heating dope with the only candle we had for light. I asked him why he had a silk shirt on in such a dirty place. He told me pimping ain't easy. He took the shirt off. he hung it up for the morning. Homeless kids would try to keep a few items of clothing nice. That way, they could catch dates or get a job or steal from stores.

She told me she would give me a ride back to my hotel. She also had this youngster in tow. She called him her son. She was 22, he was 15 or 16 at the time. As we started to get in the car, the boyfriend arrived on the scene WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN? and BITCH this and BITCH that. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her life a ragdoll. I went over to a pile or cement and rubble on the other side of the car. As he pulled back to hit her, he saw I was going to hit him in the head with a brick. I have never, in my life, hit anyone in the head with a brick. Why I thought to grab the brick, I just don't know. I was going to bash his fucking head in with a brick as she covered her face for the impending slap.

He stopped. He looked at me. I am not sure what I looked like- I just knew for certain I was going to hit that man, with this fucking brick right now. He backed away. He made some type of joke. WE'RE cool or some other bullshit excuse.

Why did I do it? I still don't know myself. I thought heroin addicts were all selfish assholes that could not care about another person. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I was still human. Some things just ain't right.

Why did you do it? Why did you use for the first time? Were you afraid? Are you afraid now? You are still human. You are still loved. You are still capable of getting yourself out of the swirling sucking downward spiral we know as the life of a using addict. Be safe my friends.

I survived enough terrible things for many lifetimes so you don't have to go down this road.

 I love you. XOXO Tracey