geoffreychaucer
Bluelighter
Opening my eyes I stare at the thousands of tiny dots that compose the drop ceiling above. For a few minutes I lie there as the sun shines in. Another beautiful day. I should leave it there, but another beautiful day usually means to me, another day I’m going to waste lost in this fog of pain, sadness and loneliness. That of course is only if I resist the growing urge to dose up. I glance over at my desk and see the little orange bottle in the corner. A pill made for my purposes. A pill which had begun to lift this affliction from my life. A pill which I am not taking precisely because I can’t stand sobriety.
I turn my gaze away from this potentially life saving medication to the substances I plan to do instead. A little bag of light green powder. On the label, Bali Kratom- 60 grams. This stuff is the most powerful temporary anti-depressant I know of. The hours I spend on it are the happiest hours that I have had since I stopped taking the actual anti-depressants. I let the inevitable debate continue in my head for a while. I know that I will be taking kratom today. But it makes me feel better somehow to allow myself a few minutes to make excuses, promises and allowances that I will not be able to keep. This thought alone, the thought of my own ineptitude is enough to get me up and over to the so-called pseudo-opioid.
Technically, kratom is not an opioid. The chemical structure of its active constituetns is closer to psychedelic tryptamines than to any poppy derivative. Yet I know from extensive research and my own personal experiences that kratom completes the opioid experience in all of its wonder. Grabbing my mug and a spoon I walk to the bathroom. and measure out what I consider a medium-high dose: a heaping table-spoon full. I mix the powder in the mug with water until it’s a gritty, green liquid. Yummy. I catch my gaze in the mirror I have the strange sensation that I am looking at a man in his late forties. My scruffy chin beard, messy hair and dark circles all complete this illusion and I am taken a back for a moment. Its not the kratom, that makes me look this way, it’s the depression. The pain in my mind has a physical effect on my body, wearing it out. If I continue on this path, assuming drug addiction or suicide don’t get me first, my life will be shorter than expected. Tearing my eyes from the mirror I exhale and down the entire mug. It’s extremely bitter but I resist the gagging reflex. It used to be almost impossible to take kratom in this direct method because of the taste. But I’ve either gotten used to it or the benefits of the high outweigh my initial repulsion. Rinsing out the mug to get the last bit of powder, I walk back into my room and get dressed.
Now that I’ve dosed I know the day will get better. Its comforting but until it begins to kick in, I’m going to need something else. I pump some lotion into my hand and walk back to the bathroom for my daily wack-off. I can’t wait too long though. Once the kratom kicks in, orgasms are frustratingly unattainable. After a few minutes of work, I finish and rinse the result down the drain. The first tingles of kratom combine with the post-orgasmal warmth. The two feelings are very close to one another. The only difference is length of time. Kratom is akin to a five or six hour post-orgasm euphoria. Obviously this wins out over masturbation as a source of personal pleasure.
Along with the initial wave of kratom warmth is a wave of kratom nausea. Luckily I have just the thing to cure this. I open up my vitamin bottle stash and pick out the last of my current supply: a roach from a joint I had last night. I tear of this skin and break up the resin coated weed into my bowl. Holding the lighter high enough, I let the heat turn the green, sticky plant matter brown and then black, a few times, it ignites but I carefully continue to inhale until my lungs are full. I push my thumb into the bowl smothering the last remaining embers and then continue to inhale, making sure that all of the smoke is safely within my lungs and not wandering under the door and into the hallway. Now, I hold it in. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds and I exhale. By now, the smoke has little odor. I repeat this ritual like process several times. The cannabinoids cascade into my brain and combine with the kratom already settling in.. Pain has been replaced with pleasure and I am high. Life is going to be okay again. I smile as my eyes droop and I savor the nod. A little Radiohead accentuates the experience occasionally, but when I'm really high, I don't even hear the music I'm so far away.
The next hour or so I lie in the warm sea of isolation that is my kratom experience. Soon, the initial intensity begins to wane and the next stage begins: sociability! The nod is great, but for me, the reduction in inhibitions and anxiety are what I am really after. I throw on some clothes, and feel increasinly energetic. The duality of the drug is truly astonishing. Nodding one minute, speeding the next. I have some work to do at the library and I head there knowing full well that I am actually looking for people to chat up in my intoxicated, care-free state. Once in the library I run into several people and can tell they appreciate my outgoing, humorous personality. I know I do, i am on top of my game right now. Eventually I settle down for some work and I find that it flies by. The whole day does. After six hours, its still with me. That's another thing about this stuff, it last forever. Eventually, after many more bowls throughout the day, I drift off into a deep sleep. Tomorrow, I cannot use, I tell myself. Today was the last day, I think. But what am I gonna do when I wake up the next morning without hope, without pleasure, my endorphin receptors starving? Only two options: intoxication and suffering. My last thought puts a wry smile on my face: "Gonna take the high road."
Since this point, I have quit yet again and begun taking my anti-depressants like I’m supposed to. I know many out there confront much more serious addictions so I’m not saying that I am a world-weary junky or anything. For me though, kratom was a pretty heavy substance. It gave me that opioid feeling we all know and love, and for those with depression or other underlying mental issues, anything that can induce a state of calm contentedness can entice one to addiction. I thought I was playing the safe road by doing kratom instead of say, heroin, which I have pretty easy access to. And I probably was. But the lesson learned is that if life is getting you down and a substance is then getting you up, addiction will probably follow, dosen’t matter what the substance is.
I turn my gaze away from this potentially life saving medication to the substances I plan to do instead. A little bag of light green powder. On the label, Bali Kratom- 60 grams. This stuff is the most powerful temporary anti-depressant I know of. The hours I spend on it are the happiest hours that I have had since I stopped taking the actual anti-depressants. I let the inevitable debate continue in my head for a while. I know that I will be taking kratom today. But it makes me feel better somehow to allow myself a few minutes to make excuses, promises and allowances that I will not be able to keep. This thought alone, the thought of my own ineptitude is enough to get me up and over to the so-called pseudo-opioid.
Technically, kratom is not an opioid. The chemical structure of its active constituetns is closer to psychedelic tryptamines than to any poppy derivative. Yet I know from extensive research and my own personal experiences that kratom completes the opioid experience in all of its wonder. Grabbing my mug and a spoon I walk to the bathroom. and measure out what I consider a medium-high dose: a heaping table-spoon full. I mix the powder in the mug with water until it’s a gritty, green liquid. Yummy. I catch my gaze in the mirror I have the strange sensation that I am looking at a man in his late forties. My scruffy chin beard, messy hair and dark circles all complete this illusion and I am taken a back for a moment. Its not the kratom, that makes me look this way, it’s the depression. The pain in my mind has a physical effect on my body, wearing it out. If I continue on this path, assuming drug addiction or suicide don’t get me first, my life will be shorter than expected. Tearing my eyes from the mirror I exhale and down the entire mug. It’s extremely bitter but I resist the gagging reflex. It used to be almost impossible to take kratom in this direct method because of the taste. But I’ve either gotten used to it or the benefits of the high outweigh my initial repulsion. Rinsing out the mug to get the last bit of powder, I walk back into my room and get dressed.
Now that I’ve dosed I know the day will get better. Its comforting but until it begins to kick in, I’m going to need something else. I pump some lotion into my hand and walk back to the bathroom for my daily wack-off. I can’t wait too long though. Once the kratom kicks in, orgasms are frustratingly unattainable. After a few minutes of work, I finish and rinse the result down the drain. The first tingles of kratom combine with the post-orgasmal warmth. The two feelings are very close to one another. The only difference is length of time. Kratom is akin to a five or six hour post-orgasm euphoria. Obviously this wins out over masturbation as a source of personal pleasure.
Along with the initial wave of kratom warmth is a wave of kratom nausea. Luckily I have just the thing to cure this. I open up my vitamin bottle stash and pick out the last of my current supply: a roach from a joint I had last night. I tear of this skin and break up the resin coated weed into my bowl. Holding the lighter high enough, I let the heat turn the green, sticky plant matter brown and then black, a few times, it ignites but I carefully continue to inhale until my lungs are full. I push my thumb into the bowl smothering the last remaining embers and then continue to inhale, making sure that all of the smoke is safely within my lungs and not wandering under the door and into the hallway. Now, I hold it in. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds and I exhale. By now, the smoke has little odor. I repeat this ritual like process several times. The cannabinoids cascade into my brain and combine with the kratom already settling in.. Pain has been replaced with pleasure and I am high. Life is going to be okay again. I smile as my eyes droop and I savor the nod. A little Radiohead accentuates the experience occasionally, but when I'm really high, I don't even hear the music I'm so far away.
The next hour or so I lie in the warm sea of isolation that is my kratom experience. Soon, the initial intensity begins to wane and the next stage begins: sociability! The nod is great, but for me, the reduction in inhibitions and anxiety are what I am really after. I throw on some clothes, and feel increasinly energetic. The duality of the drug is truly astonishing. Nodding one minute, speeding the next. I have some work to do at the library and I head there knowing full well that I am actually looking for people to chat up in my intoxicated, care-free state. Once in the library I run into several people and can tell they appreciate my outgoing, humorous personality. I know I do, i am on top of my game right now. Eventually I settle down for some work and I find that it flies by. The whole day does. After six hours, its still with me. That's another thing about this stuff, it last forever. Eventually, after many more bowls throughout the day, I drift off into a deep sleep. Tomorrow, I cannot use, I tell myself. Today was the last day, I think. But what am I gonna do when I wake up the next morning without hope, without pleasure, my endorphin receptors starving? Only two options: intoxication and suffering. My last thought puts a wry smile on my face: "Gonna take the high road."
Since this point, I have quit yet again and begun taking my anti-depressants like I’m supposed to. I know many out there confront much more serious addictions so I’m not saying that I am a world-weary junky or anything. For me though, kratom was a pretty heavy substance. It gave me that opioid feeling we all know and love, and for those with depression or other underlying mental issues, anything that can induce a state of calm contentedness can entice one to addiction. I thought I was playing the safe road by doing kratom instead of say, heroin, which I have pretty easy access to. And I probably was. But the lesson learned is that if life is getting you down and a substance is then getting you up, addiction will probably follow, dosen’t matter what the substance is.
