Citation: BeGizzle. "The Binge: An Experience with Cocaine (exp54509)". Erowid.org. Oct 7, 2007. erowid.org/exp/54509
||(powder / crystals)
Well, I'd like to start this experience off with a little bit of my background. I am currently sixteen at the time I am writing this, and I've had an extensive history of using drugs. I started smoking marijuana around eleven years old. Soon I began doing other drugs, which include methamphetamine, ketamine, shrooms, and just about every prescription drug you can think of, in both the uppers and downers realm, I've done them all. However this particular experience deals with the most addictive drug I have ever done in my entire history of using drugs. Of course, I am talking about cocaine.
Having been placed on probation for the second time earlier this year, I've been unable to smoke marijuana for quite some time, so that lead me to drinking and doing other drugs that wouldn't hang around in my piss for too long. I had gotten the word that one of my good friends had started to sell the coke, and had gotten up on quite a bit of weight. I called him up and I asked to get a half gram, and when I finally got over to his house, he told me he'd run out completely. Now, being mildly disappointed, I shared this with him, and he told me that he could have half of his personal stash, which was about a quarter gram in one line. I went into the back room and skeeted up the line I was designated to, and having absolutely no tolerance what-so-ever, I immediately felt it come on and I was absolutely blown away. It was too strong: my hands were tingling, my mind was racing, I was talking to my friends at a very alarming pace. Soon afterwards I began to feel negative physical effects, like my heart was pounding, I couldn't catch a satisfying breath, and I began to feel bad all over. So, this was enough for me for that night, I had decided that it felt just too shitty to do it, and later that night I felt terrible until I came home and went to sleep.
Friday rolls around and I am aware that this is my last day in town for about two and a half days, and I won't be able to get high for the whole weekend. I get a call from one of my hydrocodone connects and she tells me she's got a couple so I roll over to her house and I pick up a few. I ate the pills later that night, and I was feeling really good on about 30 milligrams of the stuff, until it began to wear off. Being under the influence of the comedown from hydrocodone, I got the idea that I would buy a half gram and take it to Chicago for the time I was out of town. Eventually I got it later that night, and I hit up a pretty decent line. This was my fourth time doing it, the time last night being my third. Again, the sensation I felt last night came over me, but I didn't do nearly as much so it was much more pleasant. However, despite its general pleasantness, I thought to myself, 'Man, I get a better rush from meth, or hydromorphone, this really isn't that great.' However, this was my only option for my weekend and I had already invested in it. I came home later that night barely high anymore, and it took me forever to get to sleep.
I woke up at around 8:00 in the morning and I had to get ready to go to Chicago, so before I jumped in the shower, I did a little bit out of my sack. Long story short, It was over too soon and I came down in the car ride there. I was with my parents so I couldn't get high anywhere near them, let alone do it in the car. I couldn't even smoke cigarettes. So, when I got my next chance, I made sure it went down like a mother-fucking plane crash. I excused myself in a breakfast place to the bathroom, where I proceeded to skeet up some more of the blow I had in the bathroom. My mouth being numb and my brain under the influence, I went outside immediately to smoke a cigarette. It was all over too soon and I was back in the car. Hours pass, and I was totally sober yet again.
We stopped at an oasis so my parents could get some food, and I had decided to stay in the car, rather go inside with them. I poured out a pretty decent line on my dad's leather car window, and I rolled up some American tender and skeeted it up. I was high yet again. We finally came to Arlington Heights, our destination for the day, and after we stopped at my Aunt's house, we went to this very large mall to go shopping. Again, I had the opportunity to do some more blow, so I went into the bathroom of the mall and began to skeet some more. I knew that this would be some risky business, however the band Yellowcard was playing and MTV was there, so all of the mall security had their hands full so I took a chance. Returning from the bathroom numb and high was a great experience. I had noticed that my pupils were very dilated in the mirror, but I thought nothing of it. Now being high and having a chance to smoke a cigarette, I did, and returned to the mall. Later on I had thought to myself, 'I've gotten high four times today, the majority of them were high risk situations.' I found this sort of alarming, however it didn't seem like a big deal to me. For the remainder of the night, I had cut myself off so I could have some for the next day.
Sunday rolls around and the only thing I am thinking about is doing more white. With both my mom and my aunt gone, and my dad sleeping at around noon-time, I went into the bathroom and had some more. After I came down, it felt like an eternity waiting for all of the adults to leave my Aunt's crib for the wedding, so I could do some more blow. Eventually it had happened, and I was by myself. The first thing I did was shut the curtains and break out the rest of my stash. I poured it out onto a book, and divided it up into two pretty fat lines. 'This is enough for two good highs' I thought, so I skeeted up yet another line, rubbed some in my gums and on my teeth, and was high. Immediately I decided to put the rest back in the sack I had because I figured I was going to leave and I couldn't let the shit sit out while I was gone. So, I put the corner sack partially underneath the book, and began to slide it off the book with my razor back into the bag. I had noticed that the drop could be ugly since some could drop, so I decided to swiftly use my razor to thrust the remaining powder back into the bag. Bad call.
The next thing I knew, I saw a white, powdery nimbus fall downward onto the carpet below. I sat there for maybe five seconds to comprehend what I had just done. 'FUCK!' I thought. 'You are so fucking stupid, oh my God!' I was so angry at myself for spilling the shit, I had began to beat myself up over it. Never had it crossed my mind that it was just some powder that has the ability to get you high, and it wasn't that big of a deal. The only things going through my mind were 'You are the biggest fuck-up!' and 'You have no more blow for the entire rest of today, or for the car trip back home tomorrow!' I was unbelievably disappointed in myself, I felt like I wanted to cry. I was going to save that shit for later, and now it was gone, my only saving grace from this terribly lame trip from my parents has diminished inadvertently, unexpectedly, and it was caused by my own clumsiness.
My mind began thinking of several courses of action. Plan B: Get more blow. This was obviously impossible since I am in a city where I know no one besides my relatives who've never tried drugs once, and I am hours away from my home town where the connect is at. Plan C: Collect the stuff from the carpet. Plan C was the best plan my mind could think of at the time. Forget about acknowledging my losses and letting it go, that was out of the question. I moved the chair I was sitting on and got on my hands and knees and began to pick up little tiny fragments of the blow from the carpet. I had to be careful, because if I disturbed the surface too much, it would fall down into the, inch-thick, quicksand-like jungle of carpet. Slowly, I had recovered about a third of the line I had once had on the book, and I decided just to do it immediately since I spent most of my high picking the shit up from the carpet.
It was just a disappointment. My tolerance was very high, and it just boosted me up to about how high I was when I spilled the blow. Over and over again I replayed the scenario in my head and I kept thinking that I could still have some left if I didn’t spill it. It was agonizing. It was like walking down a sidewalk, noticing a pothole in the ground, however you still walk directly into it and fall in, over and over again. I went outside to smoke a cigarette, and I had tried to forget about my losses, since I was still pretty high. However, at the end of my walk I had remembered it again, and I simply felt lost. It was like I had stranded myself out at sea. The comedown was terrible. I had called up my coke connect during another cigarette break, despite the fact that I wouldn’t be anywhere near the state for a day. I had called to make sure that I could get the blow on Monday when I returned. The night dragged on and eventually I went to sleep.
Monday begins with us leaving Illinois. All I could think about was getting more coke. I had forty dollars, and that was it. I came back, went over to my friends house, and I called up my connect, who said it would be a couple hours. Another period of intense waiting until it finally came. When I got into his car to get it, I paid him forty dollars for a half gram, which was ten dollars more than the last time. I had gotten a nosebleed from my left nostril. I thought nothing of this, went inside to my friends house, and skeeted up some more. I proceeded to do it once more that night, and when my connect ran out of weight again, my friend pressured me into selling me the rest of my shit which was about a quarter gram for twenty dollars. I figured hell yeah since the QG was kind of light and I could get more tomorrow. I came down and I felt terrible as fuck since I had no blow in my possession, and I went into an intense period of psychological withdrawal from the coke. I called up my connect again, asking him if he could get me some that night, and he said it would be some pretty decent shit, but nothing like the fire he had gotten on previously. I decided to wait until the next day to get more, because I wanted my money to go the longest distance.
Tuesday comes around and I call up my connect when I am at my buddies house ready to get the blow. He doesn’t pick up his phone. I call again another hour later, and still no answer. Another hour passes and when I call his phone is turned off. I nearly shit a brick. I was so pissed, he told me that I could have gotten it for sure “Tomorrow”. The buddy who bought the QG from me the night before told me that he’d spent the money he was going to buy more blow with on a shit load of dank-bud. So, I decided that this was for the better, so I call up my oxycodone connect, and he’s unable to hook me up.
Desperate for intoxication, I call up my friend who does coke a whole lot to get some more. He says he will be able to, and he will be able to hook me up with the twenty-sack. I get it a couple hours later, and I bring it home and break it out on a book to see if it looks straight, which it does. It came in two bags, so just to sample it to see if it was some good shit, I rubbed the external bag on my gums which had some residue on it and my mouth became numb. I had intended to save the white for the day after, however after sitting there with it on the book waiting to be re-bagged, I couldn’t control myself and I did the entire sack at once.
I’ve came down since then, and I decide to write the report afterwards. It’s two in the morning, and for the very reason I was saving it for tomorrow, so I could get to sleep tonight, it wasn’t enough to keep me waiting. I have no money, and there is no chance in hell I will be getting blow tomorrow. However, I am okay with that. Beforehand, I had psychologically prepared myself to get high just this once, and take a break. I am writing this experience to explain to people who think about trying cocaine that it’s extremely addictive. Nicotine wasn’t as addictive when I started, not even close. Hydromorphone which is close to pharmaceutical grade heroin isn’t even close to blow’s addictive nature. I have no idea how I am going to cope with not doing blow, I mean, to me it seems nightmarish, scary, and impossible, however I will try my best. I can’t imagine someone who has been doing it for a long period of time. I advise anyone who is going to try this be considerate of how powerful the drug really is, and to watch your frequency of use as well.
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