Karma In The Life
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Mar 9, 2007
- Messages
- 5
Greetings!
I would like to use my first post on these forums to share a trip of sorts...I would also like to say that I am not writing this as an anti-drug protest or rant. I had always tried to be safe. This is just the story of my downfall from drugs.
Sept 2003,
I start to feel the itch, the one that creeps up and wants a high of any sort. I am 18, I am an addict. I work at a cafe. The entire staff uses besides maybe the owner. Feeling the craving for an opioid buzz and fresh out of anything to satisfy myself, I use my break to pick up the essentials for the night. Something cheap, something that will work. I go to the store and pick up many ounces of poppys. After bringing them back to work and getting them ready with my manager we begin to make ourselves some tea.
The feeling is familiar. The same as always, what I was looking for. I feel I am a better worker, more talkative, more relaxed, more buzzed. Shift over. I feel that I have had enough tea for the night and feel the need to make some cherry kool-aid instead with my cheap buzz for the night. I end up drinking the rest of what we had made that day. Vomiting outside of my house. All better now. I am buzzed to no end, laying on the couch, eyes closed relaxed as could be. My cheaper version of oxys. My homemade cherry flavored opium. I have plans for tomorrow, better get some rest.
I am digging in the ancient pyramid. The scenery is amazing. Digging up artifacts. I am in space, magnetic devices floating above me, most peculiar. I am in a whore house looking for drugs. Somehow wal-mart and microsoft have teamed up and are in control of the country. I want ice, something cold, moisture of any kind. These are my lucid dreams brought on by the history channel. This is all happening not when I am in the coma (7 days to be exact), but the week after I have snapped out of it laying in my hospital bed.
They said I was not going to live. They wanted to take the support off. They said if I were to live that I would be "brain dead", unable to walk, talk, eat, think. My hospital stay was around 100 days, learning to walk, learning to talk, learning to eat.
I would like to use my first post on these forums to share a trip of sorts...I would also like to say that I am not writing this as an anti-drug protest or rant. I had always tried to be safe. This is just the story of my downfall from drugs.
Sept 2003,
I start to feel the itch, the one that creeps up and wants a high of any sort. I am 18, I am an addict. I work at a cafe. The entire staff uses besides maybe the owner. Feeling the craving for an opioid buzz and fresh out of anything to satisfy myself, I use my break to pick up the essentials for the night. Something cheap, something that will work. I go to the store and pick up many ounces of poppys. After bringing them back to work and getting them ready with my manager we begin to make ourselves some tea.
The feeling is familiar. The same as always, what I was looking for. I feel I am a better worker, more talkative, more relaxed, more buzzed. Shift over. I feel that I have had enough tea for the night and feel the need to make some cherry kool-aid instead with my cheap buzz for the night. I end up drinking the rest of what we had made that day. Vomiting outside of my house. All better now. I am buzzed to no end, laying on the couch, eyes closed relaxed as could be. My cheaper version of oxys. My homemade cherry flavored opium. I have plans for tomorrow, better get some rest.
I am digging in the ancient pyramid. The scenery is amazing. Digging up artifacts. I am in space, magnetic devices floating above me, most peculiar. I am in a whore house looking for drugs. Somehow wal-mart and microsoft have teamed up and are in control of the country. I want ice, something cold, moisture of any kind. These are my lucid dreams brought on by the history channel. This is all happening not when I am in the coma (7 days to be exact), but the week after I have snapped out of it laying in my hospital bed.
They said I was not going to live. They wanted to take the support off. They said if I were to live that I would be "brain dead", unable to walk, talk, eat, think. My hospital stay was around 100 days, learning to walk, learning to talk, learning to eat.
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