If there's one thing I've learned in
life, it's that crack will drain your bank account. Seriously, it
will fucking grow little crack rock legs, hold you up for your
wallet, and go and commit fucking identity theft on your ass! One has
to wonder just what could crack do with four thousand dollars?
Probably cash it out in pennies and go to the strip club and make it
“hail.”
I always thought of it as something I
would never try. Sure I've mainlined and smoked all the major drugs,
but this one had always eluded me until about the last six months
into my seven year long battle with substances both great and small
(Ever see a kilo of ANYTHING in your life?). I'd always equate it to
that of a heavy meth user. Rotten teeth and mouth, eyes that bug out,
hollow cheeks.
Hmm... I've just described every
addiction basically.
I have no resentment towards myself for
the past I had. It was like the poor man's version of backpacking
through Europe. But crack was just sooooooooooooooo easy to get
living down on Colfax!
I just found a new roommate and he sort
of joked about using crack at first. Then when he pulled the glass
rose out I was all like... Sure. Why not? And I fucking smoked crack.
The thing was, I couldn't stop! It was
like a the opposite of heroin and I apparently had an inhuman
tolerance to the drug because my little hotel room became a little
crack den.
To be perfectly honest. Crack is awesome. But it becomes you the way all hard drugs eventually do. You wake up and say “I want some crack!” You obsess out it. You can't enjoy anything else but crack. You can't do anything but eat, sleep, and think crack. It sucks and I realized this early on.
To be perfectly honest. Crack is awesome. But it becomes you the way all hard drugs eventually do. You wake up and say “I want some crack!” You obsess out it. You can't enjoy anything else but crack. You can't do anything but eat, sleep, and think crack. It sucks and I realized this early on.
I just wanted to keep doing crack.
Why should I have cared? I had nobody
but a friend struggling with her own demons and a mooch roommate
sharing a queen sized bed with me in that little shanty. So I didn't
really care about what happened to me. I'd fucked up my life thus
far. Why bother changing now?
Until I met Frank of course. He won't
let me do crack now. In a way I appreciate that very much. I love my life with him. He is one
awesome dude. :-)
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