Addiction

   I’ve been doing drugs for ten years and I can’t stop. I go to bed an addict and wake up an addict.

   I was eleven years old when I started trying drugs. The families that I lived with would leave needles, bongs, lines and alcohol lying around all over the “houses” we lived in. I don’t really know why I thought it would be a good idea to try them, all I knew was that when they were doing these things, they were happy and weren’t beating me. I don’t remember ever being happy as a kid, so I wanted what they had.

  I usually wasn’t allowed in the houses, I usually slept in sheds, basements, barns or just outside. I was only allowed inside when I was being beaten or when I was doing my “parents” dirty work. This usually meant that depending on how bad they were, I had a place to hide things. I was just so upset and beat down from them one day I decided to just do what they were doing, and grabbed a little bag of white powder on my way back to the barn. I chose the cocaine because I was afraid of needles, and thought weed was the same as cigarettes, which I already smoked.

  I had no idea what to do with it, I tried eating a little bit of it but it just made me sick, so I just hid it and slowly started collecting more, planning to bring them to school for the guys since they were all in similar situations to mine. When you don’t have parents, there’s absolutely nothing to stop you from doing stupid things, there’s nobody to disappoint but yourself, and there’s no consequences. 

  I was confused, but still desperate, so I decided to go for the alcohol. I poured out little bits of each type they had and collected it as well, but I didn’t save it for the guys. I saw the effects it had on my “parents”, it made them not give a shit about anything, and they even laughed sometimes. So every morning when I heard them call for me, I chugged a bottle then ate leaves to get rid of the smell. It made me numb to what they did to me, and sometimes I wouldn’t even remember so I could actually sleep. This helped, but it didn’t do the trick. 

  That September I went back to school with my bags of cocaine. I have no idea how I got it through security…I guess it was “luck”. When I revealed what I had to the guys, none of them questioned it, Aiden had even tried drugs before. They had all seen their” parents” with the same thing, but they had no idea how to use it. Matt was different though, Matt grew up in a trailer park and had actually watched people do it, so he showed us. It was clumsy, but it worked. 

  We split the first bag up into 15 lines, 3 lines each for Ben, Aiden, Sonny, Matt and I. We used straws stolen from the kitchen. The only instruction we really had was to close a nostril and breathe in. The first line wasn’t too bad, it burned a little. The second and third made it feel like my nose was on fire, my eyes teared up and it felt like a fire was lit in my brain. Almost instantly my nose and throat went completely numb and the burning went away. It was dripping into the back of my throat and started fucking with my gag reflex, we all spent 10 minutes throwing up out the window. That’s when it hit us. It was the best feeling in the world, euphoric. We all started jumping all over the dorm room, feeling invincible, wanting to do everything and anything. My hunger went away, something that I wasn’t used to. We all continued doing a line every 30 minutes. The second and third line was incredible, nothing like the first. We didn’t get sick and the burning sensation wasn’t there because of the numbness. About 5 minutes after those hits the rush would get even more intense. Without even moving our heart rates were going mad and we were sweating profusely.

  I fell asleep about 2 hours after my last line and woke up a couple hours later feeling disgusting. I hated everything, I hated myself. I literally wanted to run to the roof of the school and jump off. I had such   intense anxiety, my whole body hurt and I just wanted to sleep. But for some reason, I still wanted more.

  None of us really knew about addiction at this point…or drugs for that matter. We went to strict Catholic schools, drugs were NEVER mentioned. No “no drugs” campaigns, no films, nothing. We had no idea what to do to fill our craving. We all tried eating, smoking, hitting each other…nothing was doing the trick. The next night we did it again, and that’s when the craving went away. We did it every day until my stock pile was gone, completely unable to sit in class silently. We literally went insane after it was gone; I think I was sick in bed for a week. 

  How do you get drugs in boarding school? We didn’t know at the time, we didn’t even know what cocaine was. I started telling the older boys about it, they had no idea what I was talking about…but they knew of something similar. Marijuana. 

  Weed never did the trick, but we couldn’t stop. We became slaves to the older guys, doing anything and everything to get more weed off of them. 

Before the Christmas break the guys and I decided that, whatever the circumstances, we were going to steal everything we could from our “parents” that would make us happy. I mean, what would the harm be? We were already getting beaten to a pulp constantly, what could they do worse?

  I stole everything. I stole alcohol, meth, cocaine, acid, pills, alcohol…you name it, I had it. I dug a hole about 5 miles away from the house in the forest and hid everything there. I stole books from the local library to learn everything I could. They noticed it was gone, but had no evidence it was me. Of course, I was still blamed and had a few bones broken…but it was worth it. 

  The beatings were much worse than I was used to. I would usually be injected with things because I was seizure, I think it was bleach. I made the connection between that and the needles I had stolen, and just decided to go for it, alone. 

  The second I injected heroin it was the best feeling in the world. It was incredible, I can’t even explain it. It was like tranquility, bliss and perfection all wrapped into one. I woke up that morning in my own puke, in the snow. It was a horrible come down. The weight of the world was on my shoulders and I was so paranoid. But that was it. I was hooked. I couldn’t stop, I needed more. 

  When we got back from Christmas break everyone was insanely beat up, but we had enough substances to last at least until March between the five of us. We did everything, and our lives revolved around the drugs. It was horrible. 

  It hit Aiden the most. He couldn’t function without it and would constantly pass out. He used to be smart and amazing at everything he did, until the overdose where he received brain damage. It hit Sonny the least, but he kind of just stopped talking after a while. 

  Heroin was everyone’s favourite, weed would just tide us over until our real fix. Nobody really noticed when we were high from heroin because they’re so used to seeing dilated pupils from a high. We never cared that we weren’t living in a reality, our realities were too much to deal with and any escape was worth it, even though the comedown was hell. 

  We were desperate for our drugs and befriended older people who would get them for us in return for sexual favours, with me usually being the one offered up to do them because I had it the worst at “home” and could “put up with it”. 

  I never needed to be high around Sunny. Sunny was my high. I never got the craving around him. He was always against drugs, alcohol or even over the counter medication and was the only one to ever tell me it was wrong. Aron’s the same, I don’t need to be high around him and he’s against most. Most of our fights are about my addiction.

  The first time we got caught was Aiden’s first overdose. One night after a hit he just started twitching and foaming so we put him to bed. When we woke up in the morning he was slightly blue and he didn’t seem to be breathing. We couldn’t wake him up. We were kicked out of school when they found out what we were doing, but it wasn’t the first time so it didn’t matter. That’s when we learned to smoke heroin instead of inject it, you pass out before you overdose if you smoke it. It’s nothing like injecting though.

  I’ve been put in rehab three times, but I just can’t do it. The rehabs in Europe are hell. It was very much like the mental hospitals…but mental hospitals just made me even more insane. Rehab just made me feel alone and like a monster and honestly, quitting heroin is impossible. It’s not that I didn’t want to quit either, I did, I do. With crack the biggest issue is deciding to quit, with heroin you always want to quit but you can’t. Crack is easy to quit, after you hit three weeks it becomes bearable. Heroin HURTS to quit. I threw up nonstop, my everything was cramped, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t stop cutting and I was always nauseous. I was so paranoid, my schizophrenia got so out of hand I would break my own bones,  I would get intense hot flashes then go to freezing cold, I wanted to kill everyone, I had a fever…I could go on. I had to be put in a hospital for most of rehab because I have anorexia, I weighed about 110 when I should weigh 220 because of my height, and quitting made me lose weight like mad, I was just too miserable to eat, food didn’t hit the spot like drugs. The craving was so bad I would have literally done anything for it. Anything. This shit was supposed to last a year, I couldn’t do it. People always say I’m such a strong person because of my past, but I’m not. I’m so weak it’s pathetic. I have no self control and no will to do anything. 

  Everyone says they’ll just do it once, but the problem with that is that it’s not possible. You do it once, you’re fucked. Sure, it’s great when you first do it…but the comedown is a literal hell. The first few times it’s great, but then 2 lines becomes nothing…then 4 aren’t enough. Nothing is enough. You get paranoid, constantly looking out the windows, you get so jittery. You get paranoid about people knowing you’re doing it. Your jaw locks, your nose is disgusting, you have to check it every 5 seconds for residue because your body just rejects the crap. You feel miserable. Your heart pounds so loud you can hear it. Your nose constantly stings, you have to get the scabs out so you can actually breathe and snort. It’s anarchy in your own mind. But you need more, like it’s going to help you survive.

  I had to get a nose job because of snorting. I had broken my nose around 30 times and my ex broke it so it was literally leaning against my face to one side, I couldn’t get the scabs out. I sneezed one night and blood just splattered all over the wall, it wouldn’t stop bleeding for hours. When I went to the hospital I found out that the inside of my nose was deteriorating. I had to wear metal inserts in my nose for 6 months to prevent it from collapsing. I try not to snort now so I don’t destroy my nose again…but it’s hard. 

  My biggest problem is still heroin. I even share needles out of desperation. For the past 3 years I’ve had problems with the skin on my arms ROTTING from infection. The skin on my injection site turns black and starts peeling away, I even have it right now on my right arm. 

  My drugs are what block out my memories and cool my schizophrenic episodes down, so I’ve come to rely on them. I’ve slowed down a bit since my ex left. I reserve myself to one drug a day. One line on Monday, one injection on Tuesday…etc. I can’t calm down with the drinking and weed though, but I’m not as concerned with that. If I don’t kill myself soon, I’m going to die from this. I don’t want to be doing this anymore; I just have no idea how to stop. All my friends do it so I have no support or motivation, and I can’t just drop out of life and go to rehab for 6 months. I have no idea what to do, and I’m so aware of how fucked I am. I hate myself for this. I brought this upon myself, and I brought my family down with me.  I hate everyone who even does weed, I’m such a hypocrite but I wouldn’t wish this on anyone else.