Citation: Professor surprise. "A Typical Morning: An Experience with Heroin (exp42965)". Erowid.org. Aug 31, 2007. erowid.org/exp/42965
A typical morning while I was addicted to brown rocks. I woke up around 7am just starting to feel the sickness. I knew I had at least an hour and 15 minutes before the dealers would arrive. My roommates (4 of us) were all still asleep on the floor of my tiny studio apartment. I lay there on the only couch for about 30 minutes until the sickness became intolerable. My legs and stomach cramping, my body feverish, anxiety levels at maximum. I HAD to have it right then. At that point I generally frantically began crawling around the floor looking for dropped rocks, used cotton balls or misplaced cookers. On this particular morning I happened to still have a tiny amount dried in my cooker forgotten from the previous night. I quickly cooked it, squeezing every last bit out of the used cotton filter, and shot it up. Then immediately began looking for more, as the amount I had done did nothing to sate my craving.
As my roommates began to wake up, I planted myself back on the couch. These people were a lot better at handling themselves with dope sickness. I knew that if they saw me acting like the dope fiend I was I might not get my fix that morning. We gathered together our assets and made the call shortly after 8am. An hour went by. By this time I would be in the bathroom kicking the wall and dousing my head with cold water as the sickness began to magnify in intensity. I knew I had things to do. My apartment was a filthy shithole. No one had done the dishes in weeks. The floor was crusted over, piles of cloths and dirty dishes were everywhere. In my state of mind I believed all of these things would get done as soon as I had my morning fix. The only thing I could do was feel sick and put all my energy into waiting.
Another hour went by and we called them back for the fourth time. This time getting the answer we had been waiting for, only ten more minutes. I became elated. In a fit of joyous triumph I gathered together my equipment. The whole time the sickness was still there but seemed to back off me a little bit. I could practically smell the heroin. The last ten minutes were always the longest ten minutes of my life. I sat there and got everything ready, found a sharp syringe and cleaned it out, methodically preparing for my fix. By the time I had everything perfect and ready to go the heroin had usually arrived. If it hadnít I would become exceptionally irritable.
Today we had gunpowder. I got myself a Ĺ gram, split it into my morning and night piles, and began the process. Once I had it in the syringe it was easy going. The sicker I was the more likely I was to be impatient and pop a vein. But usually I was pretty good. I can remember the feeling. You can taste the heroin in your throat as it rushes up your neck into your brain. Instant satisfying cure. Instant sedated euphoria. Everything I had to do that day went out the window at this point. &%*$ Dishes, %&$ the vacuum, I'd rather sit there and stare at the back of my eyelids, or at the wall when my roommates would slap me awake and demand I blink once and awhile. Sweet opiod bliss. Talking would generally piss me off, for the first hour or so Iíd prefer to sit in silence, devoting all of my energy to feeling the high.
With heroin everyone Iíve ever met always seems to know they are addicted, but they donít care. Itís like the sore on the top of your mouth you keep tounging so that it never heals. I'm not saying everyone who does heroin is going to be an addict. But it seems that ninety-nine percent of people who try injecting heroin more then once will be an addict at some point. Methadone (as a treatment) is something of a copout, because anyone Iíve ever seen who takes methadone will always switch back and forth between methadone and heroin for the rest of their lives until they overdose.
I may not have a lot of experience; after all I had only been injecting heroin twice a day every day for about 8 months at 19 years of age. But in that time I saw and did enough crazy shit to make me never want to do it again. Two of my roommates 26 and 30 years of age had been doing it for 5 and 10 years respectively. They will never have their lives back from it.
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