It’s a phenomenon I experience a few times a week. I’m not sure if it started before or after I started using—now almost a decade ago. An immediate realization that the person in front of my face is a mirror. Their addiction pulsing a silent signal that I instantly receive.
Whenever it’s confirmed, a bit of joy courses through me. I’ve found one of my own. Sometimes there’s a bit of loathing as well. A mirror image of my own self loathing?
I rest on my arms, palms on the counter. Old scar on my inner arm—a mess of twisted flesh the color of buttermilk—a secret badge of honor. Only for them to see.
The fire trucks are wailing outside the window. Flying down Manor to a distant emergency. Their lights flicker on the blinds before stopping, screams growing quiet in the distance.
I feel tired. Not high. Just drained. I’m dissapointed in my nightly dose. It isn’t strong enough. I hold my cravings inside. Lurking at the back of my skull. Hoping to hold them at bay until tomorrow.
I picture the junkies across America. All of us snuggled up warm under the covers. Cradling track marks and secret desires for more more more. It is comforting and disgusting all at once.
I'm sitting behind the pharmacy right now. The sun pouring through the trees on to the brown, cracked leaves. All the amphetamines in my system has made the day fly. My mind keeps flipping from project to project--unable to stay focused on the task at hand.
My guts buckle. But I ignore it and keep smoking my cigarette. Blowing blue smoke into the cool fall air.
Last night I gave into temptation. we had dinner with my parents. I couldn't abort my oxymorphone--I didn't want to fall nose first into my plate of enchiladas. But even the alcohol from my margarita and my pills couldn't get me high. I needed it like so many nights before. I returned home, unable to settle down, without the thought bubbling up. There was no more fighting it.
I crushed up the pill and inhaled through my left nostril. The powder didn't burn.
A few minutes later I was overcome with a warm pleasure. My eyes fell closed half closed. Heaven was finally within my grasp. All the customers and pain drained away into a puddle of oblivion.
Each cigarette felt better than the last as I chain smoked outside. Unable to stop myself. Once more entangled in my vices.
Fuck, back to work. At least they replaced the employee toilet. I can get some peace as my guts roll out my stomach like a sick joke.
I'm sitting on the bus right now. Babyshambles blasting in my headphones to tune out the hum of the motor. Evening sun pouring through the thick plastic windows. My eyes are half open, I've been struggling to stay awake all day.
Last night's high has bled into today.
I get home and immediately get to work. R and our friends are over hanging out in the living room.
I go into the bedroom and grab one of my generic oxymorphone er 10mg tablets. I take an alcohol pad to wipe off the outer coating. The sunkist color has been removed, now leaving it slick, white. I put it in my pill grinder and turn until it is a fine powder. Then I inhale deeply through the $2 bill shoved into my left nostril. My pharmacist gave it to me for good luck a few months ago. I snort all of it in a single breath, leaving the back of my throat coated in grit.
By the time it starts to rush over me, the 2 oxys I popped are already flushing my cheeks red. The oxymorphone hits me square between the eyes as I walk outside.
I try to drag my eyes open as I smoke a cigarettes with Nic, Jeff, Lee and R. Lee is staring at his phone typing--his eyes never leaving the screen.
"Yo that dope I got this weekend was basically all fentanyl. It had crazy legs." Lee says breaking his silence.
"Like a fine wine?" I smirk.
"Yeah... I did a point and I was puking the entire show on Saturday night."
"Damn."
"Yeah, usually I need like 3 points to feel it. But I was nodding hard off of 1 point."
"You gotta be careful..." I sound more like an older sister than a friend. I worry about that kid.
"I know... I just can't get it out of my head. I hadn't done any for like 3 weeks, but then I ran right back to it."
"I hear you. It's rough."
Everyone else dissolves into background noise, scenery. They all walk inside, leaving the 2 junkies to commiserate.
"Dude, you don't want to be like me in a decade..." I say "Well, I mean, I have most of my shit together, but you know what I mean."
Lee laughs, "Yeah, it doesn't seem so bad what you have. But I get what you mean."
It hits me that I'm the definition of a functioning addict; with a great marriage, full-time job, apartment, plus a kitten and a rabbit, from the outside no one would ever know that my mind is consumed with thoughts of my next high.
"Anyway, I'm gonna go pick up like $40 worth." It's said more like an offer than a statement, since he usually picks up for me when I want some.
"That's cool man." I put the thought of my mind. The oxymorphone has got me good and high right now--I don't need anything else.
I look down at my phone and see a text from R: Don't buy H. The implication of the text annoys me, that I'm going to buy H because Lee is.
Lee follows me inside. Jeff, Nic, and R are sprawled out on the laid down futon and the floor. I recline on the futon next to Nic. It's nice to have her here with me. She's come down from NY to hang out for a few weeks. There's no definite day when she'll leave, and I prefer it that way. I wish I could convince her to never go back and move to TX.
Nic's arm is cradling a 40 of Mickey's mixed with 4Loko Gold; her drink of choice.
Rick and Morty are on TV. Jeff and R are having an animated discussion over Dan Harmon's storytelling formula. I've heard it a million times from R.
Lee is staring at his phone once more. Not even taking a moment away from it to sit down.
"I'm going to RBM to meet up with Tito, anyone need anything?"
Before we can respond he's out the door.
I've only sat down for 5 minutes before I'm back outside smoking a cigarette. The urge overpowering my desire to be social. Lee comes back up the steps. His cracked and ripped combat boots slapping the cement steps.
"I didn't pick up." He sighs, sitting down in the chair on the other side of our outdoor table.
"I'm proud of you dude, that's a really hard thing to do."
"I hadn't used for 2 weeks and then I picked up a few days ago, and I can't stop hating myself for doing it again. I can't get it out of my head, but I hate myself every time I do it."
"That's one of the hardest things. I understand that. I'm really proud of you. It's a tough decision, but you did it. I know it sucks."
"Yeah, it really fucking sucks." He sucks on his cigarettes.
"You can always talk to me about this stuff. I won't judge you, like I get it."
"Thanks, that means a lot."
"Of course."
Silence descends over us. I stare back at my phone, shuffling through Facebook and Twitter.
Lee returns inside, but I don't follow him. I need another cigarette. Another moment of silence to think.
Love you,
Lucy
P.S. This song has been stuck in my head for the past few weeks... bang bang I'm gone!
