Taking no reference from the movie apart from its title, this shall be my one and only attempt to speak about the subject.
"White lips, pale face. Breathing in snowflakes. Burnt lungs, sour taste..."
...Though I never struggled to pay rent, there were long nights, and there were strange men.
Let me begin by stating clearly... This post is about my experience with methamphetamine.
It began with a dabble, 2 years back. Nothing. I didn't feel any different smoking it. I hooked up, and that was it. 1 year ago, I hooked up again. This time, taking a bit more. I felt awake, for a whole night, but not any different, really. I just had to cope with some lost sleep.
Then, 9 months ago, I did it again. Finally... perhaps due to a different batch or formula... I felt it. A rush, quiver through the body. Immediately, I was calmed. I simply stopped for a few seconds to feel. I cannot describe it. Euphoria is not accurate. There is something completely engulfing, that takes your perceptions to new heights, and holds your entire being there. It was a good feeling. In fact, everything felt good. Touch, smell, sounds, and the sight of the men who gave it to me... not entirely attractive men, but men that are willing, and able, and everything wrong about them just.fell.away.
Talking about it just makes me feel like doing it all over again. Shamefully so.
But hey, that's all the good stuff, right? It really was all good, until my first crash. Fatigue, depression, excessive sleep, in short, I turned into a zombie for a few days. Still alive enough to keep up appearances, but the strain of staying awake just to go through the motions was debilitating. After crashing, what seems to be a return to a state of normality is another illusion that would last a few more days. I lose strength, focus, and spend a good amount of time resisting to take a puff.
It gets worse. The things I did when high on meth, I would never do sober. Barebacking, combining drugs, fucking people I don't even like... The remorse doesn't hit me until the next couple of days. People think it's the high that pulls you back. I think it's the crash that pushes instead. To know that this feeling can be kept at bay just for another few days.
I don't think what I've described above is accurate enough. I don't think I really know how to describe the whole experience. Just that it should have never happened.
That being said, I have no qualms on accepting the damage I have done to myself. But I've gone as far as alienating 2 friends in the process. A, who was trying to dissuade a few of us friends from doing this any longer. We were supposed to work together to stop it all but I had decided that the plan was too drastic, so it fell through and A got hurt in the process. B, who is a dear friend of many years, I pushed away because I decided that after what happened with A, disclosure of this nightmare will not benefit anyone. As it turns out, standing my ground did not benefit our friendship either. Both friends no longer communicate with me in any form.
I've always believed the strength of any relationship is only shown in times of trying.... So I guess I'm still that same weakling I've always known. I wish I could muster up some fight in me to make up with both friends but I feel undeserving of their forgiveness because this issue is still not over. I doubt it will be over anytime soon. No doubt, we all keep secrets. Some secrets you keep and nurture with love and it helps you grow....but I suppose this is one I have to keep and let eat me up till the day I die. It has cost me this much. No more.
I cannot blame the drug. But since it's entrance into my life, a lot of emotional wrought has followed. It's no wonder why people choose to hide the truth. "No judgement.... It's ok.... We understand..." These would all hold true... until they don't.
The thought that 3 people, whose lives are so big, wonderful and full of joy can be separated by this one occurrence, is infinitely saddening. It's why I choose solitude. It's why I choose to put up that stupid face with the world. Because the truth simply doesn't work.
It's been about a month. I don't have meth on me anymore. I know it will still forever haunt me. I know I will slip easily because that's who I am. I am afraid. I think I will always be. In this Fear. Hating myself. So hello, third certainty in my life. You and Taxes have never been kind, but maybe with your help, I will learn to embrace this pain, and Death will seem kinder.
Distant and Debilitated...
D.
