WHAT ON EARTH WAS I DOING EARLIER? Answer: heroin. I took it because I was miserable and it worked. Sheer unconsciousness. 2nd stab and I was in. Pushed the dark brown popy juice straight into my lower right thigh, held the leg up to the ceiling, which I have to do with my legs; the circulation is so poor; within 30 seconds I felt that unfamiliar poppy-crap feeling doing stuff I don't need to body and brain. Within 2 minutes I was in my bathroom slumped over the sink wondering what I was doing. I needed to go out to get my cherry cyder to potentiate the heroin so I did (not that the heroin needed making any stronger...)
Each £10 bag (2 for £15) contained a tiny lump which didn't even smell B I thought "what is this? The usual ripoff!) then I cooked up and smelled something but it still looked to me like a dark dye was in the mix. I didn't bother taking it in 2 and wasn't bothered about overdosing so I took it all together and it knocked the living crap out of me. I couldn't even tell you it was fun as the days when strong heroin felt like fun are long gone. It wasn't as heavy as 7 valium blues I had last night it has to be said, but the unconsciousness was probably deeper.
Which is why I left in the blog-nonsense I typed when I repeatedly gauwched (rhymes with crouched: means "to go into heroin-induced stupor") at the computer. I thought I'd show you what heroin actually does.
The other thing it does is barely anything and that's when you get tolerance to it as anybody who takes enough for long enough will. Even when I was on £100 a day (only for a few weeks) I never got that out of it. Perhaps because I was speedballing my heroin with crack (another £40 a day) my tolerance shot so high. Speedballing means you drop crack into the cooked up heroin or simply cook together and get an intensely powerful IV hit. When I had money my snowballs were "15 and 5" meaning £15 of B (0.4g at the time) and £5 of crack (0.1g at the time). This was a few years ago when drugs were stronger and deals more generous than nowadays. The heroin-coke mixture is intensely addictive and very difficult to stop doing. Even when I reduced the cocaine contingent to £2 against £10B I still couldn't give up that "sparkle of coke" as I called it ...
I haven't the slightest intention of using again tomorrow. I got better value when I was spending £15 a day on DVDs. Least I have a slew of movies to show for that! Tonight, when my wooly consciousness cleared out a bit, I put on The Aviator with Leo DiCaprio and Cate Blanchett; he reminds me of me: repeating over and over the same words. That's something I do when I go cuckooclocks! Did you know that OCD and bipolar mood originate in the same area of the brain? Makes sense that when I had my mini nervous breakdown as a kid. I launched from my "I'm dying of cancer!" depression direct into "I'm contaminated!" OCD. I was uncomfortable turning on taps. Doors I opened with elbows or feet or waited for somebody else to do the opening; noses were revoltingly contaminated. Snot comes from noses and snot was vile.
So you see this started in childhood and nobody knew what was in my head. Even when they asked, I could barely answer: I wasn't brought up to express my feelings (as, let's face it, children weren't. Not until the present day and age when kids seem to have all manner of conduct disorders and oppositional-defiant issues to contend with.... My extreme "compliance" as Dr Smartarse (the one I would gone crazy if he dared treat me for my present problems) left me as an adult with Vast reserves of self-control. Without such self-control I might easily have done something truly stupid during my "I'll clean my house with kerosene and matches" urges in more extreme phases of mania. So you see I have nothing about which to be bitter against my parents. Neither one made any mistake I myself wouldn't make with a child of my own.
I have my parents to thank for teaching me right from wrong, which not all parents seem to do. So when I turned junkie I was a dirty desperate junkie, but not a vicious one.
And I'm still a junkie today. A methadone junkie perhaps, who picked up heroin yesterday. But I know what I want and I don't want heroin. As my own saying goes: Even when it's good, it's shit. And that's heroin for you in a nutshell. In Marianne Faithfull's words: "A big waste of time"... Illustrated: opium sap; yucky brown Afghan heroin (proper gear is talc white); an obviously faked-up photo as no junkie ever draws up a hit of B without carefully filtering!
originally by sting; way better by these girls
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