Junky

Twenty three years old, and all I have are a couple jeans and t shirts and the leather biker wallet i got when I was twelve.

That and the track marks inside my elbow, more visible than they should be because of the two months of using animal needles.
I cant say honestly though that im not in love with this lifestyle in the same way I was in love with a woman who was just as bad for me as the drugs I pump in my veins.

I've been to rehab three times, self admitted once, most recently, but I cant see myself as them, not because I dont think Im good enough, but because I cant imagine living in that world. The day before I left treatment this last go round an old heroin addict said to me "Im fifty four years old and on my third rehab, you're twenty two and on the third, you go back out, you may not have a fourth". The words of that old junky come back to me often, especially these past six months.

Being a speed freak is hard enough to hide, but mainlineing makes it all but impossible, what with the scars and all.
So i wear long sleeves around my family and go to the bathroom or the gas station to do a load.
The one person I dont have to hide it from is my ma. She shot dope from 14-27 and stopped the day she found out she was pregnant.

Until she found out I was bangin that is, within weeks she was sewing up with me and my brother pudge.
Yea not only did I string out all my homies dealin the shit, I hooked my ma again too.
From an addicts perspective it makes it easier to get money when I cant come up with any.

I've been in a couple weird situations before but its definately strange to shoot dope with your ma.
"Hey ma, you remember to get rigs"?
See how that tastes coming out of your mouth.
Try having to hit a vein for her cuz her hands are too shaky to do it herself.

I been doing speed since I was thirteen and never had a problem until this december. I was an addict sure, but like none I new anyway, I could binge and then BAM no dope anywhere and not really give a shit. Or at least not give a shit about it enough to get pissed like everybody else I knew.
I lose control when I use chemicals to hide from pain.

When I decided to stay in Aurora, I figured my girlfriend Mariah would just come out with me, she had said she would any how, but a week after I told her I was gonna stay here she ended our relationship. She wasnt my first love but I've never been so in love with anyone in my life, every time I looked at her I got that jelly belly feeling and found it hard to think, speak, breathe, anything. She said she felt the same with such an honest look in eyes that appeared to be filled with love that I never doubted it.

For three days I did nothing but shoot dope, and by that I mean I didnt speak accept to do the deal, I didnt write, I didnt move from the couch I sleep on except to score or do a load.
I know that I will never experience a love like I had for her again, I doubt most people are ever lucky enough to experiance it even once. I know what its like to love and this was the best of that and then more. I thought that love like that was only real in sappy movies.

I started doing shots that were twice as big as my normal loads, which were already enough to buckle my knees. I was on self destroy mode, and even pumping ridiculos amounts of dopamine creating poison directly into my blood couldnt make the pain stop. I did too much a few times and fell out in the bathroom with my hearts beat like that of a scared rabbit and increasing, I thought i had exploded my heart, and for the first time in days I was happy.

Until the rush evened out and I realized i was not going to die, and that I'd puked all over the floor and was laying in it.
I did it again the next day more intentionally than before but still my ass lived. Im like a cat, Ive been shot at, been in the kind of car wrecks that people dont walk away from, od'd, and never even had an overnight hospital visit or a busted arm.

You reading this and Mariah are the only ones who know I od'd besides pudge. And Mariah found out on accident when she got a text meant for Pudge. She broke down saying "your gonna die and its all my fault".
The thought of that beautiful, amazing breathtakingly perfect goddess would blame herself chilled me like death and I swore I'd not leave her scarred, I wouldnt be the one to ad a sadness to her aura. I slowed down, meaning that 1.7 grams would last most of a day instead of from noon to four.

I found a job at a cigarette store off Colfax, not my dream job but it'll do for now, keep the drugs coming in any how, and give me something to do aside from bang dope, steal shit to sell for dope, and spend hours high and writing weird poetry.