Introduction: I just fell really hard since August 2021 when I began using drugs again. I had been clean over a year when I manipulated an Adderall prescription from an unfamiliar doctor. I had been struggling in my Cisco network class, I figured a little amphetamine salt would really help things. Unfortunately I sniffed the whole bottle in a few days and went looking for street meth. Addiction finds a little cracked door to slip into and eventually occupies the totality of life. By mid January I found that I had lost everything, and was in the hospital with serious injuries.
My fear is that my powers of description are inadequate to capture the horrors of the month that got me where I am (long term treatment, in the mountains). The fear of inadequate writing abilities won’t stop me from trying to tell the story. Telling my stories is what I do. I wrote over 100 pages in the first 10 days off the street, I will post it in sections over the next few weekend.
All the real blood and gore resulted from my return to inhalant Abuse after 2 years abstaining from it.
It’s embarrassing but I huff compressed gas air duster. I just do, it’s a fact. I’m talking about the canned air that is used to blow dust out of electronics.
It’s a common chemical that can be found on the shelves of target, cvs, Walmart, or rite aid. I think I huff it because it’s easily available, and easily shoplifted. I would steal better drugs from drug dealers but my guess is that they’d kill me a lot faster than any rite aid employee.
It’s just me trying to escape my self in any possible way, sitting in my thoughts and feelings is tortious, and I want out. Thus is addiction.
To be continued. ..