PSA Of The Day: Stay The F**K Away From Meth!

May 5, 2015 | No Comments » | Topics: TRUTH

I was introduced to everything through one friend, I’ll call him Theo. Before him, I was a good kid. Straight As, never skipped school, didn’t even smoke cigarettes. He was a goth punk, started off stalking me and somehow we became best friends as a result. He was my first real friend, and in those days… he was a damn good friend. He took care of me. He cared. He was kind, generous, and just the greatest guy in the world. We started drugs at about the same time. Our first drug was LSD. Never did it often, though. Stuck with pot for years and years.

Eventually, we were introduced to meth. It started out as something we did rarely, but eventually it overtook everything. Whenever we hung out, we got high. The first three years, I was high every other week. The last two, I was high every day, except for when I would crash after being up for five days straight.

I had a job overnight stocking, and my job performance improved due to the meth. No exhaustion, no need for breaks, easily occupied with mundane tasks.

In the end, what lead me to quit was a moment of clarity. When I took a look at my situation. I used to be a straight As kid, with a future. Now I was a high school drop out, working at a dead end job where I never spoke to anyone, and at that moment I was sitting in a trailer with five other filthy guys. One was missing an eye, telling me about how he sucked dick in jail. The other was a gay man who had his relationship destroyed by meth, and he was busy picking at a sore on his forehead that had grown to the size of a half dollar. No one had bathed in days. Everyone had been up for days on end. There was a bunny that someone had caught decaying in the back room, under the bed. Where the fuck was I? What the fuck was I doing there?

I left. I cut all ties. I went home, and slept. And ate. And writhed. And hallucinated seeing shards on my bedspread, carpet, counters… there was no logical reason for shards to be there. I still combed the carpet looking for them. I washed my bed sheets, vacuumed, went over everything with a cloth. Even then, I found myself searching for shards. At work, every bit of plastic, when caught in the light juuuust right, it looked like a pipe. Even though I -knew- it wasn’t a pipe, whenever I’d catch that glance, there would be a surge of hope/need.

Some months after I quit, I got a call from my best friend. He was starving to death. All his drug buddies had abandoned him when his money ran out. I took him into my home. He started to get on his feet again. Had a job. He started to use in my home, and for "old times sake", I used with him. I had been clean for six months at that point. The very next day, bounty hunters came for him. He missed a court date. If that had not happened, I honestly do not know if I would’ve relapsed or not.

I saw him in jail. When he got out, I let him stay with me again. He cashed in his trust fund after a while. And started to use again. This time, I wouldn’t have any of it. When I found out, I kicked him out. Two-three months after that, he broke into my home. Stole my computer, and a big jar of loose change (it had maybe $60-120 in there, there were a lot of pennies in it). While, at the time, I couldn’t prove it was him, in my heart is knew it was.

He never broke in again. Two years later, I found out that he accidentally hung himself (auto-erotic asphyxiation gone wrong). Got together with a mutual friend to have some beers and talk about him, and learned from the friend that it was Theo who robbed me.

I’ve been clean for six years now. I still occasionally have dreams about smoking meth with Theo, but I haven’t had one in months. Used to be very frequent. I still have a tick that I developed while tweaking. I occasionally find myself unconsciously rubbing the hem of my shirt between my index finger and thumb (a lot of my shirts are worn thin there). I haven’t felt joy or happiness in a very long time, the best I can get is amusement. I laugh a lot, but that can be awkward when I want to laugh humorously at what should be a happy moment. So, I tend to fake joy, just so that I don’t put others out.

by s0ck

faces of meth