- March 27th, 2009
i hate being sober. most of the time. i'm 6 months clean from heroin. every day i think about it, craving it at least once. someone i used with just last year died on tuesday the 24th. he just got out of jail on Feb 14th and he asked me to be his valentine. our last few interactions (texts, emails, etc.) wasn't good. although when i saw at at the end of the night we called "truce" and shook hands. i still feel awful about that. a couple of weeks after that night he tried to kill himself and i was concerned that if i reached out to him, it would make me look bad to someone else. i should have done it anyways. he did some cotton shots with some really old cottons. when you shoot dope, once you mix it up on the spoon and cook it, you put a tiny little almost super mini cotton ball on the spoon to suck the liquid up through so the end of the needle doesn't get chipped or dull. you can save those cottons and squish out the leftover dope remaining in them and get a decent shot out of it. sometimes if there is bacteria in the cottons you get sick, same when a little piece of the cotton gets sucked up into the syringe. that could be what happend since the ones he used were old. its called cotton fever, his an extreme case, which can be fatal... obviously. his lips and tongue swelled up and he was choking. i've had cotton fever, a mild case.... obviously. its scary to think that could have been me. when he got out of jail i considered getting high with him. it easily could have been me. he pretty much sacrificed himself for someone else who was there as he started dying. getting her out of the house so she wouldn't get in trouble delayed the 911 call. and when the emt's came they couldn't save his life. luckily his best friend came home and was with him. i cant even imagine what it must have been like to watch them use the shock paddles on him. there were tubes, syringes, and other medical and drug paraphenallia left scattered on the ground by the puke and piss stains. he died right on his best friends bedroom floor. cardiac arrest due to anaphalactic shock. they wont know really what it was until the autopsy is finshed. i get awful visions of him being cut up, his rib cage being cracked open and his organs taken out. i wonder what he'll look like at the wake. he was really handsome. now he's probably being embalmed, lips stiched up and eye lids sewn shut. and now his best friend is seeing, feeling, and hearing his ghost. i dont blame him for wanting to move. i would too.
this is the 3rd friend that has been lost to drugs in a little over a year. you'd think the 1st one would have been enough to scare me straight. it doesn't work that way. i wish it did. i would have been clean at 17, when they first started to drop like flies.
luckily it does remind me of something...that life is too short. i need to make the most out of this life and be happy. so why cant i? i hold myself back, hold on to my baggage, and let my fears and insecurities take over. fuck that, i'm going to be 30 soon, and life is too fleeting to be miserable. impermanence. its scary. i know i'll crave certain things every day. but mostly, right now, i just want you to be with me, completely. i love you. but you'll never see this.