I don’t know why I’m writing this. I suppose it’s to put it out there, even if it never gets read; I’ll still know I said it.
I first injected that beautiful drug (meth) at a party when I was sixteen, shortly after I had my daughter. I loved it. We all do though, don’t we? That rush. I loved it so much. But, I’ll sit here and beg anyone not to try it.
Since I started doing meth at sixteen, I haven’t gone longer than a week without using. I’m now 35 and I use between 3pts and half a gram every day. I use, go to work, come home, eat my dinner, and go to bed. I’ve lived like this for at least the last 2 and a half years. There was a time when, had I of been the one reading this, I wouldn’t have believed it. I mean, for the first ten years of using, I couldn’t sleep or eat for days when I used. Now, after sacrificing over half my life to this thing — this beast, I doubt I’ll ever be able to use enough to keep me up for even a night. It’s depressing.
I was so beautiful when I was younger, I just couldn’t see it. How valuable youth is in the meth game. How its traded on and used to open doors. My last partner called me his little key turner — there was no door I couldn’t get opened for him; even ones that had previously been slammed in his face. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t believe he’d do me like that. And still can’t, but that’s another story for another time…
I literally mourn the child that I was. The loss of that innocence, that little girl and her poor family whose only crime was loving her unconditionally. My poor dad who passed away suddenly, wondering all the time why I would rather be around addicts and criminals than be with my beautiful, beautiful family. And for that I’ll never forgive myself. I love you dad. I love you Gabby my strong daughter who’s now 19. She once asked my mum, “why doesn’t mummy want to spend time with me?”. My heart breaks and I wish I could turn the clock back and have all those precious fleeting years back. Mum always said, “turn around twice and she’ll be all grown up”. Why couldn’t I have just listened and done what I was told for once in my life? I wish I knew the answer to that question.
So here I am. My best and only friend in the world, right now, is the food I need to live, yet is killing me slowly, spirit and soul. For this reason I wonder if I’ll ever be free. Will I get to do the things that that little blonde haired girl took for granted she would have? A husband, a mortgage, a life? I still have hope, but am not so naive as to expect it.
Anyhow, my reason for this guts spill is I’m having a drug dependency assessment in order to get my drivers license back (where I live, in Australia, if you get picked up driving under the influence twice they take you license for the rest of your life, or until you can give a clean urine and answer their questions in the way that they want to hear). So, my poor mum has already forked out the $450 required for the assessment with all expectations on me to pass it. I can’t let her down again, not this time. I managed to quit pot in preparation, but still hang for a cone every day. Ten years from now I hope I’m not sitting here still hanging for a cone!! I’ve had my last wak until after the test at 6 tonight. Getting to work tomorrow will be tough and the next day and the day after that….you never know maybe I’ll never use again. Maybe.
Thank you someone, if anyone, for listening to my dribble. I feel better for it.