A sad day

I threw away my last 2 unfinished bags of syringes and filters and other drug gear in a random trash can in SF. There were sterile syringes, needles, cookers, tie-offs, .2 micron syringe filters, cotton balls, alcohol wipes, and ampules of saline. These were all left over from the heroin and other opiates I had been doing daily until a few weeks ago. Of course there wasn't any heroin left, but just getting rid of the gear had a feeling of finality to it.

I had mixed feelings as I did this. Shooting up dope has been, for the most part, fun for me. I enjoy the "stoned" feeling of being loaded on heroin. I even liked the raw rush of injecting a shot of heroin into my arm. I had to quit because I'm starting work again and need to be 100% focused. With heroin, there is too much down-time and getting motivated is more difficult. So while I'm working, I'll be too busy to do it. Heroin is for people with a lot of spare time and extra money. That and I don't want to deal with trying to find connections while in WDs in a foreign country.

On a completely unrelated note, I made my first San Francisco 911 call. I was on a walk in the Outer Sunset neighborhood, and I found an old man who seemed lost and confused and very sad. He said he had locked himself out of his apartment and I asked him which one and if he had anything with his address on it with him to prove where he lived.... I would have just called a locksmith for him or maybe his landlord, but as I talked to him, he seemed more and more "off" or confused. I waited outside his building with him until I saw paramedics approaching on the next street corner and I took off.
 
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