Drug Addiction Stories & Info

They told me that it would be the best time of my life, that it would make my life better and put me on top of the world.  Boy were they ever wrong.

I guess it only serves me right for believing anything that came out of the mouths of a bunch of junkies in the first place.  But then again, at the time, I was too blind, or maybe too stupid to see that they were junkies. Instead I saw them as a cure to the lonliness that I was feeling from being on my own for the first time in my life.

Now here I am wandering the darkest streets in the city at 3 in the morning in search of a fix. It has been a few hours, and the high is fading and the anxiety is starting to rise.  I find myself teetering on the edge of rationality and on the verge of total self destruction.  I know that rather than wandering the streets where anything could happen to me, that I should grab the phone and tell my family that I have a problem, yet if I make that call, that it will be the end of the road for me and my intimate friend known as heroin.  I know that one phone call means my family will be on the next plane and will stop at nothing to help me down the road to recovery.   It’s what I need to do before I end up dead in one of these dark alley’s that I now walk upon, yet the intimate relationship that I’ve formed with the drug keeps me from making that call.

Even now, as the flashes of rationality urge me to make the call, I find my step quickening and the anxiety building at the thought of having to kiss my lover goodbye.  Tonight I can’t make the call, but tomorrow, tomorrow I will.  If I can get one last fix, it will clear my head and then tomorrow I’ll call.  After all, I can’t call during the middle of the night anyway.  My parents wouldn’t want me to wake them. Tomorrow, that’s as good a day as any.

The closer I get to approaching where my friend awaits me; all I can think about is the feel of the needle sliding into the vein between my toes. …