Citation: schopenietzche. "OD: An Experience with Cocaine (exp69894)". Erowid.org. Jul 17, 2016. erowid.org/exp/69894
||(powder / crystals)
I had done a lot of cocaine in the past, and I believed that this time would be no different. I had recently been asked to leave my parents' house, where I had been living, and had been couch-hopping and emptying my bank accounts to pay for my habit.
I had bought a couple of 8-balls from my dealer, hoping to stretch them out until I could find a new job. I think buying so much was a poor choice. I went to a friend's house who was cool with people doing blow.
I broke out the bag and got to doing lines on his coffee table. The shit was really good, and it only took a few to feel it. But I kept wanting more, so I kept doing it. Pretty soon half of the first ball was gone and I was tweaking pretty hard. I was trying to get some of the people there to do lines with me, but I think they saw me geeking and weren't too interested.
Eventually I had to get out of that house, so I had a friend come and pick me up. I was pretty strung out at this point so I asked to go to my safe place, the super target where another friend worked. Whenever I got freaked out on blow I would always go there to ease out of it.
When I got dropped off there I still had about a quarter of the blow left. So much for lasting very long. Only about two hours had passed. I went into the bathroom there and cut three enormous lines on the toilet paper dispenser. I really wasn't feeling so good anymore. I found my friend and she took me out to the car. I could barely talk and she told me she'd take me home to my parents, who I hadn't seen since they kicked me out.
We got to the car and I leaned up against it and put what was left in the bag up to my nose and inhaled it. I threw the empty bag on the ground and stared into space for a while. My friend told me it was time to go and I eased off the car and went to step towards the door.
As I went to grab the door handle, I could feel myself falling to the ground in the parking lot, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could barely move and everything was out of order. The last thing I did before the seizure was check my pulse. Then the shaking started. From somewhere deep inside my body I knew what was happening, but I couldn't feel any pain. Just the shaking. My head was bouncing up and down on the pavement, but it didn't hurt. From very far away I could hear my friend telling me to stop shaking, but it wasn't something I had control of.
From very far away I could hear my friend telling me to stop shaking, but it wasn't something I had control of.
My whole body had a mind of its own.
My friend called the cops, and an ambulance came. I remember hearing sirens, but I still had no control over what was happening to my body. When the paramedic tried to pick me up to put me on a stretcher, I was told later that the seizure was at its worst. I was given a shot on my inner forearm that left a dark purple bruise that lasted for two weeks.
There's little I remember about the ambulance ride except how dry my mouth was and how soothing the paramedics were. They asked me a lot of questions that I couldn't answer. I got a lot of shots and eventually things began to clear up.
At the hospital, the shame of being a seventeen-year-old runaway cocaine OD started to hit me. A police officer showed up and told me he was more interested in me getting clean than going to jail. I couldn't tell him much about the events of the day since I couldn't remember them, but I told him I'd give some thought to my life.
It's been three years since that day. I haven't done cocaine since, and I never plan to again. It was a great drug, but it took over my life and nearly ended it. I'm all for recreation, but it's easy to play a little too much.
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