The Day in the Life of A Drug Addict
I awoke to the smell of an old house, the lights were off and the
house was cold and damp. Doug was nudging me saying “Wake-up! I got us a
wake-up . . . get out of bed!” He was wide awake and holding a sixteenth
of cocaine in his hand. My stomach started churring as I got up and ran to
the restroom. He had woken me up many days like this but today Doug really
had the dope. He enjoyed waking me up and making me think he had some
cocaine, but most days he did not.
After I threw up, I washed my face leaving the water running, and
searched for the needles hidden under the cabinet. I gave Doug the spoon
and I tried to pull thirty units of water into the syringe. Doug hit me on
the side of my head and said “Your shaking too much, let me do that.” I
pulled away from the faucet and let the syringe fall into the sink. Then I
rolled up the shirt sleeve on my right arm. I looked at my arm. I had
tracks, needle marks, up and down my arm. My shirt sleeve had blood stains
on it from the day before. I held out my arm and demanded “I get the first
one and I want coke not watered down coke!” Doug pulled my arm close to
him and inserted the needle in my arm. As I was shaking, he told me “Make
this last for a while girl.” I felt the dope hit me and ran out of the
restroom. I was shaking and could not get my breath. I enjoyed this
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feeling although I knew it was not going to last. I could hear every sound
outside and inside the house. My heart beat grew faster and I felt the
rush going away. I wanted another fix. Doug had just got finished doing
himself.
I grew scared and felt like Doug was going to do most of the
cocaine. I did not want to feel the down side of this high just yet
although I knew it was coming very soon. Five minutes later I fixed
myself another shot of cocaine and handed it to Doug. He was shaking and
could not focus on what I wanted him to do. I cried out to God asking for
him to “Help me.” Then Doug came to some sense, he pulled my arm close to
him and gave me my shot of cocaine in the same place he had done it earlier.
I felt the rush and hit the floor. All my senses were focused on the
feeling I was getting from the shot of cocaine I had just received. My
heart was beating fast and my mind was listening to the loud sounds around
me. Then the more frightened I grew, I knew someone was out to get me.
I stayed afraid. I just knew I was going to get killed or I was going to
jail. I felt the impulse to watch the street outside the old ran down
house. I stared out the window shade and thought of how I was going to
make enough money get some more cocaine that day. Doug yelled “If you want
more of this you best get in here!” I went back into the bathroom and did
the last shot of cocaine we had. Doug stared getting mad “You do too much
of this *censored*!” He was coming down and was feeling the down side of his
high. “How in the hell are we going to get more today?” “I let Brandy use
your car and she gave me this *censored*!” ” It was not even very good! Huh?”
Doug was mad.
Doug always watered down the last shot of cocaine he made for me.
He also enjoyed making me feel like I had done it all. I could only think
of one thing. How was I going to stay high today. I hoped someone would
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come by to share their cocaine with us. I knew if they did not the day was
off to a bad start. Once I had gotten high, I was no good. I was afraid
and did not want to come down.
This day was like many other days. I did what I had to do. I did
not think of anything but staying high on the cocaine. I picked up my
bible and prayed “God if your out there? Help Me! I want to live and not
remain in this hell.” The day dragged on in the same fashion. Doing more
cocaine and never having enough.
This all happened about three years ago, when I was in the middle
of my drug addiction. This day, like many others, was spent with my
boyfriend Doug. I have been clean two years now. I thank the Lord above
for changing my life and taking away the control the drugs have over my
life. I look back today thinking how could anyone live this type of life.
Bibliography
personal friend
