Meth + Stupidity = ???
I wrote this for a journal, but I'm going to share it. I dont know if it should go in the forum or not.
A persons body is capable of many things. However, this is often confused with invulnerability. One of the most overlooked dangers in which people my age encounter is drugs. This in no way is to sound like me, myself telling someone else not to use drugs. Do whatever the hell you damn well please. This is just my newly discovered perspective. Until last night I would have taken anything passed to me, and as much as was available. Depression is a bitch.
These stupid chemicals that I would push into my body never solved anything. They were always too short lived to do anything about making my life enjoyable. This is where the irony plays in. Having a mother that insisted on destroying her life with drugs, it would seem as the son would have seen the evils that these chemicals do, and would have chosen to sway from this path. I have seen how a drug can take a person and vandalize their "soul", taking them away from themselves and often reality (no pun intended). This metamorphosis of the individual is disgusting. Yet, here I have been for the last couple months using the exact drug, that made me cry as a child. Perhaps I am just stupid. Stupid enough that last night, I experienced my first overdose. Using almost every drug out there, and at high doses, I have developed enough experience of altered realities to know that this was truly my body starting to sign off.
Every drug develops a tolerance within the user, often completely changing the high. That pure rush of euphoria experienced at first, quickly changes to just a rush of pure anxiety and agitation. Thus, leads the user to use more. Now, using more of the drug that isn't making you happy, trying to get happy is flawed logic. Nevertheless, the craving of euphoria dominates over all commonsense. Note the stereotypical "crackhead", for exemplification of this. It all started Saturday, I got off work and headed out with some friends. Being the bored person I always am, lead me to ingesting some MDMA. It was fun like usual. After coming down from the peak of this drug, sleep is almost always impossible. Add that and the fact that I was at a friends, in a foreign bed, it would be a sleepless night for me. The following day I went home and was pretty tired. All I wanted to do was sleep, but my father would never allow me to sleep during the day, that and he would know I was up all night. So, I was now at home, even more bored then before, still depressed, and extremely tired. This seems to be perfect combination of emotions for me to conjure up my stupid ideas. There could only be one answer to this problem, meth. Just saying that word makes me so fucking mad, sick, and in distress. Being stupid as I am, I called up a friend and we ended up using. About a week earlier I had made a promise to myself not to use this stupid drug, but I am weak. As anyone would expect, I didn't really sleep Sunday night either. Monday morning I had to be up at 6 so I could walk my poor as to work (I'll save this for another time). Being up for the last two days, I didn't have much of a choice but to use more to stay awake.
After work, I was walking home and felt like shit. My whole body was sore and weak, but I had to go home and do my slave labor as to please my father. When I got to the sink to start doing dishes, my back muscles just couldn't take standing there leaning over. I work as a cashier, so I had been lifting stuff in the same angle all morning. Stupid, bored, weak, depressed, and tired I walked up stairs and pulled out the pipe. Addiction can't be summed up any better then what I was encountering. After pulling out the pipe and loading it, I sat there at my computer typing and talking to friends. I would glance over at the pipe and it would make me sick to my stomach. Every single inch of my body was screaming for me not to do it, yet after 20 minutes of sitting at the computer, the voice of my body had lost, and my stupidity had taken charge.
Taking a deep breath I didn't really feel anything, so I said fuck it, lets go for the euphoria. The pipe was loaded about five times in five minutes. Not small amounts, but large amounts. The conclusion of this massive smoke session... no euphoria, just me getting more tired and weak. About an hour later I started to have the worse headache I have ever had. Shortly after I turned death white, and was running a fever so high that I decided I had to take a cold shower. Walking toward the shower I got nauseous. When I got the to shower I tried to turn it on, but was having a difficult time because my hands were shaking so bad.
When I was finally able to turn it on I got in and attempted to stand, but I was dizzy and unable to. Figuring that I absolutely had to take a shower I sat down. I must have past out, as I was awakened by my dad knocking on the door asking what I was doing. My responses was that I thought I was running a fever and was trying to cool off. I then followed up the response by turning off the shower, drying myself off, and putting on some sweat pants. When I got to bed, I laid there and couldn't do nothing more. At this point I was having the worse headache of my life, running a high fever, having muscle fatigue, and seeing thousand of spots and stars across my vision. The next thing I remember is having the phone ring. It was my work, I was supposed to be there at 8 and it was 8:30. Doing the drug even though you don't want to, and having it interfere with your normal life is nothing more then addiction. Its time for me to stop bullshitting myself and start the battle that my mother was never able to win.
I wrote this for a journal, but I'm going to share it. I dont know if it should go in the forum or not.
A persons body is capable of many things. However, this is often confused with invulnerability. One of the most overlooked dangers in which people my age encounter is drugs. This in no way is to sound like me, myself telling someone else not to use drugs. Do whatever the hell you damn well please. This is just my newly discovered perspective. Until last night I would have taken anything passed to me, and as much as was available. Depression is a bitch.
These stupid chemicals that I would push into my body never solved anything. They were always too short lived to do anything about making my life enjoyable. This is where the irony plays in. Having a mother that insisted on destroying her life with drugs, it would seem as the son would have seen the evils that these chemicals do, and would have chosen to sway from this path. I have seen how a drug can take a person and vandalize their "soul", taking them away from themselves and often reality (no pun intended). This metamorphosis of the individual is disgusting. Yet, here I have been for the last couple months using the exact drug, that made me cry as a child. Perhaps I am just stupid. Stupid enough that last night, I experienced my first overdose. Using almost every drug out there, and at high doses, I have developed enough experience of altered realities to know that this was truly my body starting to sign off.
Every drug develops a tolerance within the user, often completely changing the high. That pure rush of euphoria experienced at first, quickly changes to just a rush of pure anxiety and agitation. Thus, leads the user to use more. Now, using more of the drug that isn't making you happy, trying to get happy is flawed logic. Nevertheless, the craving of euphoria dominates over all commonsense. Note the stereotypical "crackhead", for exemplification of this. It all started Saturday, I got off work and headed out with some friends. Being the bored person I always am, lead me to ingesting some MDMA. It was fun like usual. After coming down from the peak of this drug, sleep is almost always impossible. Add that and the fact that I was at a friends, in a foreign bed, it would be a sleepless night for me. The following day I went home and was pretty tired. All I wanted to do was sleep, but my father would never allow me to sleep during the day, that and he would know I was up all night. So, I was now at home, even more bored then before, still depressed, and extremely tired. This seems to be perfect combination of emotions for me to conjure up my stupid ideas. There could only be one answer to this problem, meth. Just saying that word makes me so fucking mad, sick, and in distress. Being stupid as I am, I called up a friend and we ended up using. About a week earlier I had made a promise to myself not to use this stupid drug, but I am weak. As anyone would expect, I didn't really sleep Sunday night either. Monday morning I had to be up at 6 so I could walk my poor as to work (I'll save this for another time). Being up for the last two days, I didn't have much of a choice but to use more to stay awake.
After work, I was walking home and felt like shit. My whole body was sore and weak, but I had to go home and do my slave labor as to please my father. When I got to the sink to start doing dishes, my back muscles just couldn't take standing there leaning over. I work as a cashier, so I had been lifting stuff in the same angle all morning. Stupid, bored, weak, depressed, and tired I walked up stairs and pulled out the pipe. Addiction can't be summed up any better then what I was encountering. After pulling out the pipe and loading it, I sat there at my computer typing and talking to friends. I would glance over at the pipe and it would make me sick to my stomach. Every single inch of my body was screaming for me not to do it, yet after 20 minutes of sitting at the computer, the voice of my body had lost, and my stupidity had taken charge.
Taking a deep breath I didn't really feel anything, so I said fuck it, lets go for the euphoria. The pipe was loaded about five times in five minutes. Not small amounts, but large amounts. The conclusion of this massive smoke session... no euphoria, just me getting more tired and weak. About an hour later I started to have the worse headache I have ever had. Shortly after I turned death white, and was running a fever so high that I decided I had to take a cold shower. Walking toward the shower I got nauseous. When I got the to shower I tried to turn it on, but was having a difficult time because my hands were shaking so bad.
When I was finally able to turn it on I got in and attempted to stand, but I was dizzy and unable to. Figuring that I absolutely had to take a shower I sat down. I must have past out, as I was awakened by my dad knocking on the door asking what I was doing. My responses was that I thought I was running a fever and was trying to cool off. I then followed up the response by turning off the shower, drying myself off, and putting on some sweat pants. When I got to bed, I laid there and couldn't do nothing more. At this point I was having the worse headache of my life, running a high fever, having muscle fatigue, and seeing thousand of spots and stars across my vision. The next thing I remember is having the phone ring. It was my work, I was supposed to be there at 8 and it was 8:30. Doing the drug even though you don't want to, and having it interfere with your normal life is nothing more then addiction. Its time for me to stop bullshitting myself and start the battle that my mother was never able to win.
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