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Greenlighter
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2023
- Messages
- 11
The beginning on a new project ive been working on, just for fun. What do you think?
A Memoir About Drugs, Love, Loss And More Drugs
As I proceeded to transform my cerebral catalogue of harrowing memories into a literary narrative, I experienced a wave of gratefulness shroud me ,for this story exists in a past tense. A ghost of the past, if you will. At least in this case, I'm under no influence to let history repeat itself. I doubt I would survive another round with the needle. Let's be honest, it's only possible for this memoir to exist in shaky strung-out memories, as attempting to write this during active addiction would result in any laptop or electronic device under my possession to be pawned for class A’s before the first line of questionable text made an appearance. Yes, you guessed it, the majority, and by majority I mean all, of my hard earned possessions were magically converted into small wraps of cling film tightly wrapped around normal or liquorice flavoured rizlas. This doesn't need to be elaborated on, but if you know, you know. Junkies have a tendency for such shenanigans. I doubt Penn And Teller would be overly impressed by this twisted sorcery. Along with this fact, my memory span couldn't concentrate on my finger long enough to bite my dirty nails, let alone express my emotions and vulnerabilities in a lengthy literate context. My current situation is one of hope, a refreshing stroke of creativity seeps into my cortex which progressively proceeds to nudge the chaotic temptation of drug use… sorry, drug abuse into oblivion, where it shall hopefully remain indefinitely. Hate slowly morphs into love, “sorry” turns into “thankyou”, “why won't you lend me money”, turns into “why don't we go for coffee”. I'm under no false perception that I am in fact, cured. However I'm confident that the universe has a bigger plan, and the path I've undertaken has sustenance. My mental health is debatable, but exists in a cocktail of more manageable highs and lows opposed to the debilitating extremities of mental torment i ultimately became strangely fond of, similar to an abusive relationship you just can't bring yourself to run from, so you accept defeat and find solace within the pain. My drug use is extensive, and would be of concern to even the most experienced chemical cosmonauts. A mish mash of cannabis, alcohols, steroids, stimulants, dissociatives, benzodiazepines, psychedelics, antidepressants, research chemicals, and last but not least ,opiates. Not to mention all the undetermined powders my drugs were adulterated with further up the supply chain in order to achieve a higher mark-up, the list could be endless. We will dive deeper into the aforementioned chemicals in good time... I stroke my dog, sip my drink, in a reflective state of comfort. I'm ready to delve into my memory bank in a retrospective manner.
Through adolescence an abnormal sixth sense plagued my brain, I relentlessly disobeyed. Law, order, chores, the social norm, you name it. A true contrariant, in all the most intense ways. So impulsively fixated on executing what I wanted, when I wanted regardless of possible consequences. I explain this because it's what I believe is a key factor in my falling in love with darkness. An abundance of light shone around me, but I yearned to burrow deeper. Let's start from the early days of this twisted fantasy of mine, I started smoking cannabis and drinking around the age of 15. I fell in love. Whatever imaginary inner void i longed to fill at this young naive age was topped up plentifully by my sporadic drinking and smoking sessions, it was a new experience, like meeting a new friend who understands you and promises you the world, an emotion i would eventually become very in touch with, time and time again. This pattern of mine whimsically continued with little or no detrimental side effects for a short period of time during my youth, only harmlessly tip-toeing around the rabbit hole. At some vague point in time during my 15th or 16th year on this planet, amphetamine suddenly became available on the menu. I traded a can of cheap lager for a small ‘bomb’ of speed contained inside a rizla with my friend Ellis’ auntie. She was an old school raver, I estimate around 28 years old at the time. Definitely suspicious in hindsight considering I had barely finished secondary school which means she nonchalantly sent us 3 drug-virgin minors on our way into the night to get off our heads. Hey, fuck it, it was such a normal occurrence for her she probably didnt think twice. Not to mention drugs have a strange way of altering your priorities and inhibitions. My lips were shredded the following morning, pupils dilated heavily, I definitely had an uncanny resemblance to a clown struck by a midlife crisis. I hope she enjoyed the cans as much as we enjoyed the bombs.
Hindsight is wonderful. It's fascinating. My more beaten-up, well travelled 28 year old temple, or tomb of a soul (at the time of writing this), can reflect on these distant times of the unknown with humour. Whatever (ahem) ‘difficulties’ I was experiencing at this age were to be magnified and multiplied into obscene heights throughout adulthood. However I was just going through whatever emotions existed within my parameters of the understanding of the world at the time. Boy, was there some maturing to be done. Sorry, readers, back to it…
Now well into being 16 years old, I have secured employment! Though unfortunately I would rather hammer nails through my hands than partake in this mindless production line slavery. The job I had landed was far from a ‘dream’ placement. I was grinding my ass off at a printing factory, my responsibility was to be the machine operator's bitch for the most part, earning £2.60 per hour. I eventually became friendly with most of the operators there, they were much older than me but I possessed a contagious charismatic youthfulness in my interactions which seemed to work well when meeting new people, regardless of their demographic. I started buying fake speed online, this was during the time research chemicals were legal. Countless imitation chemical compounds mimicking the real deal were sold online and in ‘head-shops’ on the high street, some not even requiring ID for purchases. A recipe for a nationwide catastrophe if you ask me. I would occasionally be partnered up on a folding machine undertaking hellish monotonous work with a lovely fella called ‘Jay’, I would start selling him the amphetamine-like research chemical i was purchasing online and we would consume this mystery powder together and work. It was fun-ish, and made the nightmarish reality more bearable. I would end up taking up smoking for extra breaks during the day and routinely head to the changing rooms to dip into my questionable bag of speed, or sometimes masturbate in the work toilet just to give myself 5 minutes relief from this dead end I had enrolled on. 3 months on, myself and 2 other apprentices out of the originally employed 4, were sent on our way packing one Friday evening. Thank fuck! What a favour they did me. Now let me just mention, I'm 100% for a hard working man providing a life for his family. However the fresh faced 16 year old I was, was adamant this was the resounding opposite of success. Fuck that place.
I enrolled into college shortly after that job to study electrical installation, to hopefully one day become a successful electrician. Desperately hoping that career path wouldn't make me want to purposely smash my face off a hard surface for the day off every morning. Anyhow, around this time I tried mephedrone for the first time, and unfortunately not the last. My weed dealer would intermittently broadcast a text listing the available drugs he had. I had mainly only previously been accustomed to rolling up weed every day, but when that text arrived and I saw ‘Mkat’ on the menu something spontaneous swung me towards a new experience. Before I knew it, while my parents were on holiday and I had the house to myself, there were 2 lines of this mysterious research chemical half heartedly racked up on my windowsill. Me and my friend bounced around the strange substance like it was an artefact of unknown origin. After going back and forth with “you go first” for half an hour, I leaned over and insufflated the white crystal like powder, my friend Alex proceeded to do the same, as if that was a competent field test to assure him this was safe to snort. Holy fuck, i felt as if my whole body was ejaculating pleasure repeatedly, still one of the best highs ive ever experienced.
A Memoir About Drugs, Love, Loss And More Drugs
As I proceeded to transform my cerebral catalogue of harrowing memories into a literary narrative, I experienced a wave of gratefulness shroud me ,for this story exists in a past tense. A ghost of the past, if you will. At least in this case, I'm under no influence to let history repeat itself. I doubt I would survive another round with the needle. Let's be honest, it's only possible for this memoir to exist in shaky strung-out memories, as attempting to write this during active addiction would result in any laptop or electronic device under my possession to be pawned for class A’s before the first line of questionable text made an appearance. Yes, you guessed it, the majority, and by majority I mean all, of my hard earned possessions were magically converted into small wraps of cling film tightly wrapped around normal or liquorice flavoured rizlas. This doesn't need to be elaborated on, but if you know, you know. Junkies have a tendency for such shenanigans. I doubt Penn And Teller would be overly impressed by this twisted sorcery. Along with this fact, my memory span couldn't concentrate on my finger long enough to bite my dirty nails, let alone express my emotions and vulnerabilities in a lengthy literate context. My current situation is one of hope, a refreshing stroke of creativity seeps into my cortex which progressively proceeds to nudge the chaotic temptation of drug use… sorry, drug abuse into oblivion, where it shall hopefully remain indefinitely. Hate slowly morphs into love, “sorry” turns into “thankyou”, “why won't you lend me money”, turns into “why don't we go for coffee”. I'm under no false perception that I am in fact, cured. However I'm confident that the universe has a bigger plan, and the path I've undertaken has sustenance. My mental health is debatable, but exists in a cocktail of more manageable highs and lows opposed to the debilitating extremities of mental torment i ultimately became strangely fond of, similar to an abusive relationship you just can't bring yourself to run from, so you accept defeat and find solace within the pain. My drug use is extensive, and would be of concern to even the most experienced chemical cosmonauts. A mish mash of cannabis, alcohols, steroids, stimulants, dissociatives, benzodiazepines, psychedelics, antidepressants, research chemicals, and last but not least ,opiates. Not to mention all the undetermined powders my drugs were adulterated with further up the supply chain in order to achieve a higher mark-up, the list could be endless. We will dive deeper into the aforementioned chemicals in good time... I stroke my dog, sip my drink, in a reflective state of comfort. I'm ready to delve into my memory bank in a retrospective manner.
Through adolescence an abnormal sixth sense plagued my brain, I relentlessly disobeyed. Law, order, chores, the social norm, you name it. A true contrariant, in all the most intense ways. So impulsively fixated on executing what I wanted, when I wanted regardless of possible consequences. I explain this because it's what I believe is a key factor in my falling in love with darkness. An abundance of light shone around me, but I yearned to burrow deeper. Let's start from the early days of this twisted fantasy of mine, I started smoking cannabis and drinking around the age of 15. I fell in love. Whatever imaginary inner void i longed to fill at this young naive age was topped up plentifully by my sporadic drinking and smoking sessions, it was a new experience, like meeting a new friend who understands you and promises you the world, an emotion i would eventually become very in touch with, time and time again. This pattern of mine whimsically continued with little or no detrimental side effects for a short period of time during my youth, only harmlessly tip-toeing around the rabbit hole. At some vague point in time during my 15th or 16th year on this planet, amphetamine suddenly became available on the menu. I traded a can of cheap lager for a small ‘bomb’ of speed contained inside a rizla with my friend Ellis’ auntie. She was an old school raver, I estimate around 28 years old at the time. Definitely suspicious in hindsight considering I had barely finished secondary school which means she nonchalantly sent us 3 drug-virgin minors on our way into the night to get off our heads. Hey, fuck it, it was such a normal occurrence for her she probably didnt think twice. Not to mention drugs have a strange way of altering your priorities and inhibitions. My lips were shredded the following morning, pupils dilated heavily, I definitely had an uncanny resemblance to a clown struck by a midlife crisis. I hope she enjoyed the cans as much as we enjoyed the bombs.
Hindsight is wonderful. It's fascinating. My more beaten-up, well travelled 28 year old temple, or tomb of a soul (at the time of writing this), can reflect on these distant times of the unknown with humour. Whatever (ahem) ‘difficulties’ I was experiencing at this age were to be magnified and multiplied into obscene heights throughout adulthood. However I was just going through whatever emotions existed within my parameters of the understanding of the world at the time. Boy, was there some maturing to be done. Sorry, readers, back to it…
Now well into being 16 years old, I have secured employment! Though unfortunately I would rather hammer nails through my hands than partake in this mindless production line slavery. The job I had landed was far from a ‘dream’ placement. I was grinding my ass off at a printing factory, my responsibility was to be the machine operator's bitch for the most part, earning £2.60 per hour. I eventually became friendly with most of the operators there, they were much older than me but I possessed a contagious charismatic youthfulness in my interactions which seemed to work well when meeting new people, regardless of their demographic. I started buying fake speed online, this was during the time research chemicals were legal. Countless imitation chemical compounds mimicking the real deal were sold online and in ‘head-shops’ on the high street, some not even requiring ID for purchases. A recipe for a nationwide catastrophe if you ask me. I would occasionally be partnered up on a folding machine undertaking hellish monotonous work with a lovely fella called ‘Jay’, I would start selling him the amphetamine-like research chemical i was purchasing online and we would consume this mystery powder together and work. It was fun-ish, and made the nightmarish reality more bearable. I would end up taking up smoking for extra breaks during the day and routinely head to the changing rooms to dip into my questionable bag of speed, or sometimes masturbate in the work toilet just to give myself 5 minutes relief from this dead end I had enrolled on. 3 months on, myself and 2 other apprentices out of the originally employed 4, were sent on our way packing one Friday evening. Thank fuck! What a favour they did me. Now let me just mention, I'm 100% for a hard working man providing a life for his family. However the fresh faced 16 year old I was, was adamant this was the resounding opposite of success. Fuck that place.
I enrolled into college shortly after that job to study electrical installation, to hopefully one day become a successful electrician. Desperately hoping that career path wouldn't make me want to purposely smash my face off a hard surface for the day off every morning. Anyhow, around this time I tried mephedrone for the first time, and unfortunately not the last. My weed dealer would intermittently broadcast a text listing the available drugs he had. I had mainly only previously been accustomed to rolling up weed every day, but when that text arrived and I saw ‘Mkat’ on the menu something spontaneous swung me towards a new experience. Before I knew it, while my parents were on holiday and I had the house to myself, there were 2 lines of this mysterious research chemical half heartedly racked up on my windowsill. Me and my friend bounced around the strange substance like it was an artefact of unknown origin. After going back and forth with “you go first” for half an hour, I leaned over and insufflated the white crystal like powder, my friend Alex proceeded to do the same, as if that was a competent field test to assure him this was safe to snort. Holy fuck, i felt as if my whole body was ejaculating pleasure repeatedly, still one of the best highs ive ever experienced.