Citation: Clayton. "Shooting White: An Experience with Cocaine (exp51994)". Erowid.org. Jun 27, 2008. erowid.org/exp/51994
||(powder / crystals)
Since graduating from high school, I had constantly experimented with multiple substances--too many to list. Cocaine had always been a constant companion over the years because it was at once so cheap and so easy to obtain. At the age of twenty-three, I was returning to Austin, TX, after spending about a year at home, living clean, earning money, and generally getting my act together after a year of abuse and poverty.
A friend, Mr. M, who was fifty years old, offered me a place to stay upon my return. He had a one bedroom apartment, and he also worked from home. The conditions seemed perfect; I could take my time in finding the right job since I would stay rent-free. I knew that Mr. M still used cocaine himself, but I had thought that I would be able to avoid my own problems with the substance all together or, better yet, use it in a 'responsible' manner.
After returning from happy hour in the early afternoon the very first day that I had arrived in town, Mr. M offered me a small bag of coke. I accepted, but he told me that he wanted to make sure that I could keep his own usage a secret from our mutual friends. He told me that he didn't want others to know that he 'runs the drug.' By his lingo, I at first thought that he ran the drug for dealers at the bar while he was there, and I was fine with this sort of situation as long as there was no dealing from home. Just a moment later though, I understood what he meant by 'run.' He produced two syringes, and he handed one of them to me. I admitted that I had never tried the drug in this manner, and he offered to shoot me up for the first time.
The sensation is utterly deafening and overwhelming. I've heard it called the aluminum train, and this phrase is perhaps the catch-all that truly describes the power of the experience. It starts simply, like a thump to the chest. My heart slows for just a second, and the air is suddenly knocked from my lungs. The sounds around me quickly lessen and finally mute, and a metallic hiss screams so loudly that nothing else is possibly heard or understood. My skin grows cold and completely numb. Not a thought flows through my mind, and I feel as though I'm falling through the air at a million miles an hour.
This was truly the way the drug was meant to be experienced. Snorting or smoking come nowhere close to the power of this. Every inch of my body and every fold of my mind is completely enveloped. Even if it does only last just six or seven minutes, the rush is everlasting, and this is the very moment that true addiction begins.
It only took a few weeks for things to fall apart. Both encouraging each others' use, we spent all of our time each day locked inside our home, just waiting for the afternoon when we could return with a new batch to prep and shoot. It became ceremonious, and eventually, I would find myself shaking at the very thought of getting my hands on some.
After I was forced to return home because of the financial hardship that we had inflicted upon ourselves, my use stopped immediately. I no longer had access to the drug, and to this day, almost a full year later, I haven't even seen it since. But that wonderful ride to the edge of the cliff still haunts me, and my breath still grows short. My heart still pounds excitedly as I just imagine finding that time and place again. I am still addicted, mind and body.
Administering coke in this way opened a door that can never be closed. The gravity of the experience will never leave me. To this day, I still want and still plan to find my way back to this oh so empty space again, but I will always regret the moment when I decided to take the jump off of the cliff. There are certain things that man should never have to suffer, and this, by God, is undoubtedly one of them. My addiction has me, and I still hear the aluminum train rolling down its tracks, waiting for its stop when I climb aboard.
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