Guest Post- Civilized Insanity

Days of Darkness

It's 235am and all I can seem to think about is the countdown to when I can cop more dope, my mind wanders listlessly thinking about my next high, my next escape  back to the world my imagination has created but my body as yet to manifest into reality. When I'm high I'm able to remove all doubt and worry about life...and it feels as though I'm able to simply live in peace for a price.

As I toss and turn, the clock seems to stuck in suspended animation because minutes now feels like hours...and sleep is something that continues to elude me (likely due to all those endless nights spent smoking meth from one sunrise to the next in a previous chapter of my life)

I've lost count of the hours of my life I've sacrificed to the never 
ending game of "Waiting to Inhale"...in other words,waiting for the dopeman. At time it feels more like Im waiting for the devil to take my call and sell me back a small chunk of my blackened soul. Once I have purchased my body weight in heroin is when I'll be free. So....can you put a physical weight on how much dope you've done in your lifetime?..think about that one....scary ain't it?

Dealing with this shit was much worse before, I've been through this scenario countless times and am able to deal with it with it better..not like with crack. See, smoking crack was hell and heaven combined. There were days when I refused to even get out of bed unless there was a deal already set up...there just wasn't any point of getting out of bed unless I knew I was getting high.

There was no point in showering..and life without a fuckin hit of dope wasn't shit.  Life just didn't seem like it was worth dealing with if I couldn't get high, so I'd disconnect from everyone and everything I could. This became a vicious cycle of loneliness because I'd only get high by myself. So, with or without dope I preferred to just be alone. After awhile, every hit of dope left me with a freakishly high level of paranoia...I'd be tweaking out with binoculars in the windows...thinking people were watching me get high. Driving while high on crack...SHIT..that was intense, because I'd think every car behind me was an undercover cop following me. I've freaked out and tossed dope or swallowed it because I was soooo sure I was being watched. Looking back on it now,it almost sounds like complete madness, but cocaine is a hell of a drug and at that time it was all too real.

(3:15 am)
...my mind still revolving around the same thoughts...five to seven more hours and I'll have a few grams of black tar ready to find its way into my nose and on its way into my bloodstream..yet time moves as fast as frozen molasses when you're waiting for dope. 

And waiting on the devil....
He should be up and ready for action around 10am, so I just have to make it until then...which seems like an eternity. A few shots of Brandy mellow the beast for the moment, and I manage to somehow fall back asleep..I wake up surprised that I drifted off. I glance at my phone and see a sign of hope 

"1 Missed Call" 

I swipe the screen and see "Lucifer" on the call log..looks like he's up early for once...let's get this show on the road.

(2 hours later)

It's amazing how dope can improve my day and make life feel just that much better. As Im crossing the Bay Bridge, I can taste the dope with every Iinhale and it brings a smile to my face....I've managed to score some temporary happiness in the form of black tar heroin and oxy. A bit of black and a few blues (roxies 30's) are enough to keep the gorilla happy for the weekend. It's a 40 minutes drive in each direction but worth every second at this moment in time. I try and think back to a time when dope didn't bring me happiness and the memory becomes more and more distant...How was I able to find happiness without heroin?  

Years have passed like nothing and I try to recall life, even before drugs...happiness without a high attached to it seems almost like a dream, one that I can no longer fathom. It's been what...15...20 years of getting high consistently, I can remember my middle school locker combination but can't tell you what I did last Tuesda. Drugs have been a crutch that I've been hobbling along with for most of my life, and I'd like to think they have helped keep me sane at some of the roughest of times.  

(1245pm)

It's all for the escape, just to get away from the voices inside my mind that create an endless orchestra of anxiety throughout the day..and even at night. All of the mental "what if ...?" scenarios that come into my mind get me going on a path of self-doubt and internal criticism, nothing ever feels like it's enough. At the age of 36, I begin to question if I will ever have my shit together enough to have a child of my own...or will I continue repeating this cycle.

I pray that I'm able to put my child's needs before my own and give the unconditional love and patience that is deserved. I've seen addicts that have been able to become extremely successful parents and its inspiring to say the least. As I feel my eyelids getting heavier and another nod coming on, my mind begins to wander. I picture a pair of tiny brown eyes making contact with my own and I crave to feel that connection with my child one day. 
Can heroin ever take a backseat and allow me to navigate through life on a different path? 

I look back into the solid white pill bottle and see I have enough dope to get me through this day...enough brown powder to keep the beast at bay for another day. There's no sunshine expected today, but that's OK because this bottle contains all I need to be alright. I dump some into the bottles cap and catch a whiff of vinegar, and this surprises me because I haven't been able to smell anything at all lately. I'm beginning to think I might need a new nose, this one might be shot to shit.

(226pm)

They say money is filthy, yet I still find myself using the cleanest bill I can find to snort some dirty ass dope.
This logic is useless since any of the serious bacteria that would harm me wouldn't even be visible...or would it?  I take a quick bump and then another, and slowly catch a taste of heaven. The bitterness of the benadryl combined with the heroin is an acquired taste...but one I've grown to love, just like the dirty martinis I can be found swigging down. Everybody hates gin, either due to its taste, or from bad experiences in the past. (Gin'll make ya sin) 

Snorting had always been my ROA, and I've never taken the big plunge mostly due to a severe fear of needles. I'd be a liar if I said  the IV high doesn't tempt me, but my lack of self control would be my downfall. I'm sure a ton of people that IV have said the same thing, but I've been snorting for 5 years now and never took the leap...

The tar heroin I've been buying for the last few years has been consistently decent...but my tolerance has shot up quite a bit. I can remember thinking back to when half a gram would get me high...and now that wouldn't even make me blink. Now I start with 3 grams, which will last about a day and a half or so...all up my nose. 

(423pm)

The inside of my nose remains lined with heroin.....my kleenex give away signs of my addiction that only some will recognize...those brown boogers. In the office I'm known for my never ending allergies, I've had the same runy or stuffy nose for about 14 months...I wonder if they have any clue that all of those bathroom breaks are spent snorting dope on the toilet casually.
I'm sure most of the company is snorting something in these stalls as well. They're junkies too, they just are in different tax brackets. I used to love getting one of these plus office jobs..and after a few after work functions I'd be supplying half the office. Need a front.?...no problem. Coworkers usually get Carte Blanche credit line especially if they were in higher positions, it's not like they would be able to racket up enough debt with me to fuck up a $50k+ annual salary.  

Having 3 coworkers owe me a few hundred each makes for a pretty sweet payday, and at times I wouldn't even have to cash my check. At my peak,I had 2 or 3 paychecks just sitting in my safe for in case of emergency. I'd be living off the dope money and would only have to recop to keep things in motion..those were the good old days. I've quit the game but miss the ease of living off the addiction of others...it was guaranteed income. Nobody ever jumped in the dopegame for a challenge..with the right situation, the shit is plain and simply easy money.

To be continued.....?

/rant

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Black Tar Heroin 10 questions answered

Image
I want to get this in one place. Here you go When was the film made? The film was made from Dec 1995 to Dec 1997. Originally the film was supposed to be for one year but I believe when HBO picked up the film they wanted two years. How were you picked for the film? Steven met a bunch of different people at the youth needle exchange. He wanted subjects that were slightly younger than me. He filmed a few other people  that never made it into the final film Were you paid for the film? No. I was not paid for the film. he bought me a hotel to stay in for a week and bought me lunch a few times. I think they left some money for me when I was in jail too. Documentary film makers, in general, don't pay their subjects. Was I friends with the other people from the film ? Sort of. I never knew Alice. I met Oreo when he was 15 or 16. He was VERY young when the film was made. His mom used to work the desk in one of the hotels I lived in. Jake and I used to hang out. At one point h...
Read more

Ben (revised)

Image
Ben was heroin addled fantasy from a time when I would rather be with someone that barely loved me than be alone. I had just been released from jail after six long months. I had been using in the jail up until the last 45 days. This is did not give me much time to construct any type of recovery. I had spent most my time of planning for things that would never happen. My first week in jail was spent recovering from surgery. When I was arrested, I had four large abcesses. An abcess is a place where bacteria gets under the skin and the flesh starts to rot. I had to have surgery on my arm. When I took of the bandage, I cried. Not because I was in the hospital, not because I was in jail. I cried because they had sliced open my tattoo! The horror of it all. I used to take a sterile needle and cut them open myself. Needless to say, my nickname was the abcess queen. When I was back on the streets, I felt hopeless. I gave up my homeless encampment living for a hotel with some financial ...
Read more

Jamie

   Being able to fall apart is a luxury many people don’t have. They carry their burdens until it breaks them.  Miss Jamie was one of the most aesthetically pleasing  women I had ever seen in my life. She simply glowed. When she entered a room, everyone had to stop to pay attention. She took that space over. Her smile was radiant. Her energy was infectious. She was a fireball of a human. Her petite frame was always draped with carefully selected skirts, dresses, and form fitting sweaters. She paired this with her signature plum lipstick and acrylics.  She always came late in the day, usually when I had the lowest energy. Yet, I never refused her entrance. I was happy to see her. Happy to listen to her while she held court in my desk area.      On this day, Jamie was wheeled into the clinic by a person I had never seen before. Instead of scrubs, he looked as if he had woken up on the streets. He looked left like a caretaker, more like a pe...
Read more