Over -D
The last time I imbibed in illicit substances, I overdosed.
It was just so good, I didn't want to come back.
But crash I did and spent hours over a toilet watching how, after each time I flushed away whatever toxins I could bring up, pink amoebas would come and clean the sides of the bowl. I even tried to catch some in my hand. Of course, I never could. They always just danced out of the way or were swept away by the currents in the water my hand created. They also seemed to be intelligent and crafty.
I held onto the toilet for dear life and believe if everyone around me had not also been a little not there I would have been taken to the hospital.
I hadn't really ever experimented with drugs while I was a teenager or even in university. It took a completely broken heart to make me want to try them, and only then because I was becoming frightenly close to being addicted to alcohol. Using drugs to get over my addicition to alcohol, using alcohol to get over a broken heart, I jumped in hard and soon was snorting and popping pills to have fun.
Finally I told a friend to take me home.
The rest of the weekend was spent in a stupor. The days were the hottest all year and I couldn't breath. I had just moved into my place and spent the time drenched in sweat and sometimes convulsing, wide awake on a futon mattress folded in half, by the slightly opened window. I tried to take a shower at some point but I could feel each individual stream of water on my body and it made my brain want to explode.
Monday morning I was late for work for the first time in my life because I was too stupid to get dressed. Too stupid meaning I didn't know how to put my clothes on. The pants really got me. I am sure they noticed it too when I was at work, I could barely put a sentence together and I had to answer customer calls on the phone. It faded but was noticeable to me for at least 2 weeks.
I kept seeing black things around my house. I cat walking around, a giant hand print on the wall, black paint seeping out of the carpet. Around Wednesday, while sitting on the toilet, a particularly vivid and frightening black thing came up the wall beside me. A revelation came to me then, out of the foggy stupidness I was still deeply in, that if I ever did anything of that nature again my brain would turn to mush.
As of yet I haven't been even tempted to try it out.
It was just so good, I didn't want to come back.
But crash I did and spent hours over a toilet watching how, after each time I flushed away whatever toxins I could bring up, pink amoebas would come and clean the sides of the bowl. I even tried to catch some in my hand. Of course, I never could. They always just danced out of the way or were swept away by the currents in the water my hand created. They also seemed to be intelligent and crafty.
I held onto the toilet for dear life and believe if everyone around me had not also been a little not there I would have been taken to the hospital.
I hadn't really ever experimented with drugs while I was a teenager or even in university. It took a completely broken heart to make me want to try them, and only then because I was becoming frightenly close to being addicted to alcohol. Using drugs to get over my addicition to alcohol, using alcohol to get over a broken heart, I jumped in hard and soon was snorting and popping pills to have fun.
Finally I told a friend to take me home.
The rest of the weekend was spent in a stupor. The days were the hottest all year and I couldn't breath. I had just moved into my place and spent the time drenched in sweat and sometimes convulsing, wide awake on a futon mattress folded in half, by the slightly opened window. I tried to take a shower at some point but I could feel each individual stream of water on my body and it made my brain want to explode.
Monday morning I was late for work for the first time in my life because I was too stupid to get dressed. Too stupid meaning I didn't know how to put my clothes on. The pants really got me. I am sure they noticed it too when I was at work, I could barely put a sentence together and I had to answer customer calls on the phone. It faded but was noticeable to me for at least 2 weeks.
I kept seeing black things around my house. I cat walking around, a giant hand print on the wall, black paint seeping out of the carpet. Around Wednesday, while sitting on the toilet, a particularly vivid and frightening black thing came up the wall beside me. A revelation came to me then, out of the foggy stupidness I was still deeply in, that if I ever did anything of that nature again my brain would turn to mush.
As of yet I haven't been even tempted to try it out.
posted by Muss at 12:37 pm
5 Comments:
Yeah. My best friend nearly died several times on drugs, and had to miss huge periods of uni because of it. He wasn't even addicted then (although he had been as a teenager) but just was really failing to look after himself, although he didn't quite realise it.
This year he's had: half a beer. So far. Said he didn't like it at all.
Sometimes I want it again. Lately been craving it ...
I don't think you should, because you obviously had a pretty big scare. The way drugs work also depends on your history of them - repeating them repeats the risk of problems, in my experience. Or rather, several of my friends experience... On the other hand, if you were here in London, I'd almost certainly offer you a joint.
like sabrina fairchild. yes, i'm cured. now to get over the cure.
Fist, I know I shouldn't, and I won''t, espeically now, knowing more about the interactions of the drugs on the brain (and heal my brain I must) which I hadn't looked at before because I didn't want to know.
Transience, from dependency to dependency, I wonder which will be the latest cure?
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