All About…Me? (insert from my novel)
I have always wanted to be a writer in some way but I never really knowif I could limit myself to being an author of one type. Should I be a poet, a novelist, maybe write children’s books? No, I want to do it all. I always believed I could reach the masses in every genre of writing. I have beent rying to write a semi-autobiography for almost six years now and I still haven’t finished a complete chapter. I have often heard that you should ‘write what you know’, so an autiobiography should be easy right? In my case, not so much. I guess I don’t really know myself all to well. I just know how I feel and I suppose I wanted to write about that. How I feel and a little more, what I went through while I was actively using drugs. That always seemed like a seller. People thrive on anothers pain and discomfort, their struggles with life and much more.
I guess I’ll start where I feel the end of ‘me’ began…as contradictory as that sounds, that’s how it was. It began with two girls sitting in a room with some cocaine. I remember that day vividly. I was just a deaker back then; I only used cannibis in various forms. I had dabbled a bit with cocaine years earlier while in Quebec but nothing like I was about to get myself into, not even close! I was only going to drop off an eight ball I had never planned on staying or even sampling my own stock. I knew the purity and never felt a need to taste it each time I sold it. Things changed and I ended up staying in her small one room apartment listening to music and watching her ‘cut’ up the coke. Small, very finely chopped lines adorned the table. She had definately done this before; she was so quick and yet very precise with how she worked the blade over the white powder. I remember praying she didn’t ask me to have a taste; I have never beeb the best at saying ‘no’ to drugs…or anything really.
Then came the words, piercing my thought like a knife, “you wanna do a couple with me? I feel bad doing them in front of you…” I felt my heart race faster and felt scared as I uttered the words that started it all, “sure. I’ll have a few”. And so it began, my first cocaine binge. It wasn’t the best high for me, it was pure enough and tasted great but I couldn’t dig it. I liked the feeling of the ‘drips’ running down my throat…the sweet taste of the cocaine on my teeth. The high was dull for me, I just felt hyper and on edge and didn’t really enjoy it. But the taste…the taste was what hooked me and kept me wanting more.
Later on that night, after doing rails for a few hours, Lisa* asked me if I had ever tried ‘crack’. I had never, I was scared because I knew what was coming next, a new drug that I couldn’t say no to and if I had known how much this drug would affect my life I would have walked away then. I shook my head and she went across the room to grab a brown paper bag. She asked me if I wanted to try some with her…of course I didn’t, but I had to. It was in me to want it. I am a walking addiction.
I watched closely as she took a syringe and some baking powder out of the bag. She grabbed a teaspoon and a half empty glass of water from the night stand. She carefully eyed up enought coke to satisfy the first batch and scraped it onto the spoon. She then added a small does of baking powder and a few drops of water from the syringe. Ever so gently and precisely she moved the spoon back and forth over the flame of her lighter. The whole process intrigued me; I remember thinking to myself how great it would be to be a drug user with ‘skills’. I loved watching the misxture cook and bubble.
Once it was prefected she lit a smoke and put the ashes on top of a straight glass pipe. Methodically she placed two large yellow ‘rocks’ on top of the ash. She motioned for me to watch her as she took the first hit. My eyes were glued to her as she turned the pipe straight in the air, getting her lips underneath, and lit the rocks. Turning the pipe clockwise and then counter and slowely bringing the pipe down until it was straight down, she inhaled harder with each spin of the pipe. She sat back o the couch and let the pipe fall beside her, eyes half open and a devilish grin coming over her face. I couldn’t wait to feel how she looked!
It was now my turn, I was going to smoke crack. Surprisingly I wasnt nervous, but how could I have been? I had already been snorting coke for hours, all my nerves were calm, All I could think was, “I hope this can get me high”. The pipe was ready for me. I did exactly as Lisa* had. Spun in back and forth and inhaling deeper and harder bring it face down until I couldn’t inhale any longer. It hit me before I could take my lips off of the pipe. I felt it…I felt every bit of it all through my body, I was one with my body as shivers ran through my spine, arms, and legs. My brain was pins and needles and I smiled childishly. I felt that I had filled the hole that had made me so unhappy for so many years, I had found my ‘God’ and he was everything I needed. I closed my eyes and felt myself melt into the chair. I sat there for what felt like hours just enjoying the feeling of calm that was rushing through my body. When I finally opened my eyes I was cold all over and my hands were clamming and white. Lisea grabbed the pipe and loaded it again, like the gun that end the misery of a suicide lover. I could see she was happy with my results, glad to see she had made me feel the high.
I couldn’t wait to do it again and again. she passed me the pipe for round two of many. I was hooked and I will admit that to anyone who asks. I wanted more and more and could never get enough. For the next four hours we took turns on the pipe and even mixed it up from time to time with a line in between hoots. I didn’t have a care in the world. I just wanted my turn to come sooner every time I took a hit. In less than ten minutes I had become a full on crack addict and I loved every minute.
