Yes I screwed up. Yes I knew when I started again I was fucking up. I still know I am screwing up and yet I just can’t stop. Over a period of 2 months I got my methadone dose down, then down some more until I just stopped at 25mgs. Ugh. Fucking mistake. They told me at the clinic that it was too soon, too fast, I was not stable and while I listened to them cite the reasons why I should not stop, I knew all along I just wanted to use. Then 12 days of torture, mental begging as I tried to justify that one shot. 12 days of nothing, 12 days of feeling like absolute shite, things did not smell right, the sunlight did not look right, no appetite, countless packs of cigs, then I call J’s sister looking for him – she answers in the tired, gravelly, slurred voice of someone who has had a nice shot minutes before and just like it was supposed to be I ask where I can score…she laughs softly and whispers “right here lover” and off I go, stopping at the ATM on the way to procure sufficient cash for the shit T is peddling. I don’t buy a lot, foolishly telling myself that one shot, maybe two just to feel better then I was going to figure out what the hell to do before this becomes a full blown run. Goddamn did that shot rock my world. I think I hit the “H” spot. I could not get the smile off my face as I struggled to keep my eyes open then closing them for a few seconds until someone said something or laughed then I would attempt to keep them open for a while, slowly letting my head droop down. Awwww blessed be thy name my god Heroin. No. Problems. At. All. Several hours later with a goodly amount hidden safely away in my rucksack I felt the first faint flicker of guilt. Failure. Relapse. Shit.
So forth and so on. I’m back to using every damn day again, back to the whispered phone calls, back to the anxiety of wondering if ‘they’ will answer their phone, if they will have the dope, back to having no spending money, back to the long sleeve shirts, back to puking in the morning, or at night, or just after a shot, or puking because I have not had a shot. My girl friend of 7 months moved out and is staying back at her moms house, she hates it when I use and told me she would leave if I did. She was true to her word. No amount of pleading, begging, crying, and manipulation will get her back. When she did come back it was to get more of her shit – DVDs, clothes, her guitar, and some pictures. I was nodding on the floor by the couch the whole time and when she was leaving I got up and she gave me a hug but as she did I could see the revulsion on her face. It hurt and I know she won’t be back. Even before the sound of her little Hyundai faded away I was in the process of fixing – soon after that all the pain went away. Pathetic huh? Yeah I know.
I ran out Saturday night and went all day Sunday(yesterday) without – I was sick, grouchy, just a fucking wreck, burning up people’s phones, yelling, screaming, calling in favors, being hung up on – no sleep at all so I finally got my guy to meet me @ 4:30 this morning on I-35, he was on his way back from a run to Dallas. At the rest stop and in between pukes I managed to get a rig loaded as the sweat rolled down along my nose mixing with the snot that was already there and with trembling, puke stained hands I injected a large-ish amount in a thick vein in my crotch area and now I am flying fast and low to the ground without a parachute but I feel a fucking million percent better…Awwww God. My life is shambles, i’m behind on all my bills, i have no cash, no gas, truck is on it’s last leg, my boss has given me the evil eye when I’m late (which is way too often) and right now I don’t give a flying rat assed fook!