I feel like I'm stuck in some snow globe world of meth where time straight up doesn’t exist. Weeks pass and I just laugh through the chaos trying to fake some kind of normal. But nah I’m out here in a busted tent shooting meth and taking GHB spending half my day on solo marathons. My dealer lives at this sketchy motel nearby. I trek through the riverlands to get there looking like a homeless tweaker version of Steve Irwin. I pretend everything’s fine if I pass a dad and his kid fishing.
I text my dealer 1 min out and he opens the door in his usual just a towel. Dude’s never hit on me though. Sometimes I crash there shower and try to feel human again. He’s cool with it says he likes my company since the rest of his clients are just there for their happy tweaker endings. That’s when I know it’s time to dip.
Right now there are four raccoons outside my tent fighting over my trash. I shine my flashlight at them watching their eyes disappear into the darkness. The riverlands are wild like that. Sirens and helicopters are constant background noise there’s a police station not far from here. Late at night I hear people screaming crying totally broken. Meth has destroyed this place. And sometimes I wonder am I just part of this mess now?
I’m shooting .7 a day. My arms are wrecked, all bruised and lumped up. My brain feels like it’s cracking my skin’s all loose like I’ve aged 40 years in months. I know I shouldn’t be okay with any of this but somehow I am. Getting sober seems impossible like the rush of these past couple of months is burned into my soul. Even the sound of the trolley and sirens feels like something I’ll miss.
I guess I just need the guts to get to detox.
Last updated on:2025-01-15T16:02:55+05:30
Comments (8)
This is a wake-up call.
Help is available.
It's time to prioritize your health.
You deserve better for yourself. 🖤
Addiction is a powerful thing.
Sending you strength and support.
This sounds really intense.
This is heartbreaking to read.