Tonight I had balti chicken with nan bread, yogurt dips and a green salad for the princely sum of £9.30. Well it's not going on heroin, I reasoned. Heroin is a thing of the past, yet again. I can't believe I ever went back to it. And with that friend who tempted me I am highly annoyed. I have had enough of people. People bring nothing but confusion. They mess up my existence. No thanks.
I felt so stupid wielding that needle around hands and feet and legs. Over the time I'd stopped I'd grown totally unfamiliar with the process of banging up the Z-grade narcotics found on Britain's streets.
I wasted more than £80 chasing a high from rubbish that was never going to do anything for me. £80, £90... nearly £100. The binge went on for four days. I call it a binge because compared to not using at all for weeks on end, that's what it was. A huge waste of time and money. I only had the money because I'd NOT been blowing it all on piss-weak "heroin". And what did heroin ever do for me anyhow?
Nothing. It only ever was a massive waste of time.
True, very briefly the drug put me back together again at a time when I felt I needed to be together, to function, to get things done.
But the upshot of heroin use after years is the very opposite effect: protracted apathy, low-grade misery. A wasted life. I never really needed heroin then. I certainly don't need it now.
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