I hate to repeat what so many have already said, but it's all true. The relationship a junkie has with his needle is as a baby is to his mother- He cannot live without it. Not using anyway. Sure, I love it. I wish I could say I hate it, and part of me thinks I do, but the stronger part of me seems to be the love. As I was once told, in rehab stay #1 of 8, separation from your DOC, which includes the needle, is as if one is literally grieving a death. And true that is. I felt like some part of me died when I got clean the first time. Of course, that part came back to life a mere 21 days later, but that's when another part of me died. Once you stick, it's like being hitched to a truck- you're going to get dragged along by that needle until you WANT to stop. Even then it seems impossible. And like others, injecting water remains a common practice. Actually, I inject benadryl just because it gives the "taste". If you don't know the taste of a shot of dope, then you're blessed.
I lost my best friend to an OD in 2001, just before he was to turn 21. He was the first to shoot me up, and I had to beg. I just couldn't afford snorting anymore. Days later I couldn't afford shooting. Years later, time served, rehabs attended, methadone and others tried, and I still know I've got another one in me. Sad.
RIP William Dean Jackson