Wednesday, August 17, 2005

shoot myself in the foot

6 people OD’d in NYC recently. It got me thinking back to my using days and all the situations that I got myself into. I was staying with some friends of my boyfriend at the time, they lived in this house that perpetually smelled of mildew or shit from the toilet being backed up, there was a kiddy pool in the kitchen that was filled with liter for the numerous cats that lived in the place, the fact that it was never cleaned also contributed to the smell. There were also 2 ferrets that lived in a huge box in the living room, and a wall of various reptiles. (again more about the smell) but they were kind enough to open their stinky door to me I thank them for that.

Having so much time on my hands and no bills to pay, I did what any normal 17 year old run away would do, I started shooting up.

When you shoot up, the heroin is cooked down in a spoon with water and then pulled up the syringe through a small piece of cotton. My X always would rig this up for me. It wasn’t until later on that I discovered he did this so that he could give most of the dope to himself. Shockingly enough by this time the habit was becoming quite expensive so I used my high school ID and a photocopy of my birth certificate, (which I covered the year up with whiteout and wrote over in pen). Apparently this was valid enough ID for the bouncers, so I was in. The proceeds I gained from this employment was about enough to support the dope habit (both of ours) but the problem was that I couldn’t shoot in my arms, it seems track marks don’t do the ass shaking business any good, so X would fix me up and shoot me between my toes. On one such occasion I felt a severe burning sensation unlike anything on gods green earth, I screamed and ran around the room like my hair was on fire. What the FUCK was in that shot? I thought it might have been a bad bag, but my heart hadn’t stopped. I asked where the glass was that he used to get the water and he stupidly pointed to my glass of sprite sitting on the desk next to me. “YOU SHOT ME UP WITH SPRITE???” I screamed. He just rolled on the back of his heels and giggled like a maniac.


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