Day 1.
What better way to start than by getting high?
Not the kind of high that makes you feel silly or even euphoric. Im talking about the kind of high that keeps you going. Like an adrenalin injection to your heart.
Speed.
It sounds innocent enough. Maybe thats why I got hooked. If you justify something a little at a time for long enough, hell, youve just accepted your addiction. Although, nobody ever admits theyre addicted to this stuff. I just do for fun.
Or because I need a pick-me-up every so often. Or it helps motivate me. It gives me ideas. Its the only way I feel normal.
But I dont need it. I can stop.
Thats what I tell myself every time I take a baggie out from its hiding spot. Every time I make a purchase. Every time I cut a line, or pack a bowl. And, especially when there isnt any around.
I started saving the baggies Im not exactly sure why. Maybe it was the cute little cartoon faces. Some have happy blue suns, or little orange devils, purple dolphins, green pot leaves, white playboy bunnies. If you have a favorite cartoon character, theres a good chance its face endorses one drug or another. Some dealers have their baggies custom printed, sort of like a calling card. Other dealers use different cartoons to keep their shit sorted out. Pure coke gets a red dragon. Coke cut with ether and vitamin B goes in the leprechaun baggies. Of course, a dealer will never tell you that. As far as you know, its just fun to have little gold unicorn heads to look at when youre getting high. And, it helps when the bag is empty too. Its hard to get upset at yourself when those little Power Puff Girls are looking so damn cute.
I used to tear apart the empty baggies so I could lick the powder that clings to the corners. Now, Im not so concerned with being thrifty. If you want to have a full-blown bad habit, you have to throw out all reason. That means money is no object. When you run out of money, theres always some item lying around that you can sell.
If you really want to have a habit and not just something to do on the weekend, you might as well become a dealer. The perks of being a dealer by far outweigh the risks. You always have drugs. There are discounts for buying in volume. You can skim a little off the top. You have an excuse for owning a handgun. And, if you know what youre doing, you can make real money.
At first, all of this sounds like a bad idea. But, I promise after a while of doing Meth, it makes perfect sense. And, once it controls you, its the only thing that makes any sense.
Meth. Crystal. Tina. Amp. Crank. Fire. Ice. Rock.
And a million other little names, depending on where you live or who you know. Some sound innocent - like Speed or Glass. Most of them are short usually a single syllable. Nobody uses big names like METHAMPHETAMINES. It sounds too serious. Who would label something so harmless with such lofty medical terms?
When youre geeked up on this stuff, it hurts to think sometimes. But thats all you can do. Think. You think about a million things, all at the same time. The thoughts fly around in you head like rockets, bouncing off the walls of your skull. Increasing in speed. Increasing in volume. It can be hard to contain all of that.
Sometimes you go to speak, and words come out, but not the ones you intended. By the time they come out your brain has already thought about a hundred different things. Keep this up for days at a time. You will. Youll do everything but sleep.
You stay awake. Sometimes hours seem like seconds. Sometimes minutes seem like days. Youll wish you were asleep. Youll wish you were anywhere doing anything but this. Youll wish you were dead.
Hopefully, eventually, youll get some sleep.
Then, Day 1.
I could use a bump.
What better way to start than by getting high?
Not the kind of high that makes you feel silly or even euphoric. Im talking about the kind of high that keeps you going. Like an adrenalin injection to your heart.
Speed.
It sounds innocent enough. Maybe thats why I got hooked. If you justify something a little at a time for long enough, hell, youve just accepted your addiction. Although, nobody ever admits theyre addicted to this stuff. I just do for fun.
Or because I need a pick-me-up every so often. Or it helps motivate me. It gives me ideas. Its the only way I feel normal.
But I dont need it. I can stop.
Thats what I tell myself every time I take a baggie out from its hiding spot. Every time I make a purchase. Every time I cut a line, or pack a bowl. And, especially when there isnt any around.
I started saving the baggies Im not exactly sure why. Maybe it was the cute little cartoon faces. Some have happy blue suns, or little orange devils, purple dolphins, green pot leaves, white playboy bunnies. If you have a favorite cartoon character, theres a good chance its face endorses one drug or another. Some dealers have their baggies custom printed, sort of like a calling card. Other dealers use different cartoons to keep their shit sorted out. Pure coke gets a red dragon. Coke cut with ether and vitamin B goes in the leprechaun baggies. Of course, a dealer will never tell you that. As far as you know, its just fun to have little gold unicorn heads to look at when youre getting high. And, it helps when the bag is empty too. Its hard to get upset at yourself when those little Power Puff Girls are looking so damn cute.
I used to tear apart the empty baggies so I could lick the powder that clings to the corners. Now, Im not so concerned with being thrifty. If you want to have a full-blown bad habit, you have to throw out all reason. That means money is no object. When you run out of money, theres always some item lying around that you can sell.
If you really want to have a habit and not just something to do on the weekend, you might as well become a dealer. The perks of being a dealer by far outweigh the risks. You always have drugs. There are discounts for buying in volume. You can skim a little off the top. You have an excuse for owning a handgun. And, if you know what youre doing, you can make real money.
At first, all of this sounds like a bad idea. But, I promise after a while of doing Meth, it makes perfect sense. And, once it controls you, its the only thing that makes any sense.
Meth. Crystal. Tina. Amp. Crank. Fire. Ice. Rock.
And a million other little names, depending on where you live or who you know. Some sound innocent - like Speed or Glass. Most of them are short usually a single syllable. Nobody uses big names like METHAMPHETAMINES. It sounds too serious. Who would label something so harmless with such lofty medical terms?
When youre geeked up on this stuff, it hurts to think sometimes. But thats all you can do. Think. You think about a million things, all at the same time. The thoughts fly around in you head like rockets, bouncing off the walls of your skull. Increasing in speed. Increasing in volume. It can be hard to contain all of that.
Sometimes you go to speak, and words come out, but not the ones you intended. By the time they come out your brain has already thought about a hundred different things. Keep this up for days at a time. You will. Youll do everything but sleep.
You stay awake. Sometimes hours seem like seconds. Sometimes minutes seem like days. Youll wish you were asleep. Youll wish you were anywhere doing anything but this. Youll wish you were dead.
Hopefully, eventually, youll get some sleep.
Then, Day 1.
I could use a bump.