FROM ADDICTIONS TO LIFE PART 7 SPEED (2)

How Bad My Speed Addiction got (2007)

In the mid 2005, a Swedish kid started hanging with me. After taking lots of Speed, we were sharing our life stories and talking a lot about our dreams, aspirations and some girls we were dating (often we were doing it for hours).

It happened that me and him were sharing painful, but very similar experiences.

Based on what he shared with me I assumed that he also had the thing with the marked personality going.

At that point both of us were still smoking pot, but (because of obvious reasons) we were not longer f*cking with it.

It didn’t take too long and me and him became like brothers. Always together, he was watching for people when I was doing graffiti tags during the day or the night.

Now fast forward to the times between the spring and summer of 2007.

During that period my addiction reached its peak. The stuff I was taking back then, was so much stronger than everything I tried before.

While the effects of the previous ones started decreasing, after just 1 week of intense usage, with this one that happened in the end of the summer.

Based on the researches I did later, I’d say it was giving me a stronger version of the feel most of the people report they get from Vyvanse (that type of feel on gear).

It was making me way more emotional and insanely driven to do or say, whatever was on my mind. But in a same way to think a lot before doing something stupid.

I adored my version when I was on it.

Regardless that many of them had no idea what I was doing, most of the people around me felt the same way about me.

Incredibly happy with the result I was getting, I had to have it almost by any means.

Something Really Personal

After a while crying on it, became something I was actually enjoying and even waiting for. No, it wasn’t during the depression phase, but during the actual high.

Shedding some tears, was some form of verification that it was good enough.

Almost like paying homage to the drug itself and to the climax of emotions I was experiencing.

Like something was dissolving into my whole being. A chemical reaction after which I was unable to prevent me from crying, because of how incredible about myself  I felt.

If there were tears in my eyes, then it was good enough. No, sobbing, nor noises just tears. Those moments lasted from 15 to 30 seconds.

But I guess, I wasn’t the only one, because I noticed pretty similar responses on the faces of some of my crew mates.

In order to not look soft or funny in my own eyes and those of other kids, I was also purposely avoiding to get emotional by any means.

I told you I was playing tough on the outside…

This is where things started getting serious

Everywhere I was failing, my other me was succeeding. That included social life and dating, school and even family.

I started dating some girls which were way more attractive as females, than I was as male.

My closest friends almost had crushes on them  and that was massively contributing to the whole “Being The Sh*t Feel”.

Never been a cool kid, I quickly became barometer of what cool actually was. And started hanging with a different crew.

In fact I formed my new crew. While completely ignoring the others, I was only f*cking only with them

My hate for school did not disappear. Yet  I was pretty much fine with when high on speed. And my grades also improved.

School simply no longer mattered.

In fact nothing really mattered, when I was my other version.

My family never approved the people with whom I was hanging with during my “Weed” smoking days. They were seeing what my stupidity never allowed me to sense.

The fact that those so called friendships had extremely negative impact on my whole well being.

It didn’t take too long and the people, I’m speaking of were no longer part of my life.

Firstly because they were toxic as f*ck and secondly because“Weed” was no longer my drug of choice.

My family never found what the second reason was, but they really liked the results.

“Weed” already seemed as joke to me. Like they never existed before, my cravings for it simply weren’t there.

Getting “stoned” or “high” already were 2 of the dumbest and most boring things I could do.

Stoners seemed too slow and indecisive for me, so I didn’t want any of them as entourage.

On rare occasions I was hitting a joint, but it wasn’t making any difference when I was already high on speed.

I began shaving my head and whole body. To clean, take care of my stuff and to rock fresh white tees.

Actually, very often I wasn’t able to stop cleaning.

Like there was no living without it,  at that point I was already spending all of my money on speed.

It was my “Key To Life” or even breathing mask. So no matter what, I had to have it.

After I entirely lost interest in being the person I was, when off of it, I started avoiding him by any means.

At that point I also knew what was waiting for me if I stop.

Slowly but surely, the depression was creeping out.

And No! I wasn’t willing to deal with it.

Not today, nor tomorrow, nor any other day of that summer. I was too fly for that.

Meanwhile the high was getting weaker and weaker, while the side effects were becoming way more pronounced.

In order to get the results which were satisfying me, I had to take so much more, than I was previously taking.

Not taking it for more than 5 hours equalled the side effects.

Now lets talk about what was happening afterwards…

Afterward Effects

All of my insecurities, fears and doubts were coming back at me (now at least 10 times stronger). And a feel of extremely deep depression, was taking over me.

No, there wasn’t any anxiety in terms of panic attacks or something similar. Just a lot of desperation, sadness, self hate and hopelessness about everything.

In best case scenario (which was 5% of the time) eating and sleeping were not possible for days.

While struggling to fall asleep, I was making numerous attempts to warm myself up, by putting so many blankets on me.

Despite that, all of my limbs were staying cold as I’ve spent some time in a freezer.

In the other 95%, all I wanted was to cry and eventually get drunk to the point where I could pass out, regardless of the large amounts of amphetamine in my system.

Yes, I was crying a lot back then (up to 10 or 12 times a day).

And No. Those weren’t the verification tears during the high I was enjoying. Now, there was plenty sobbing too and it wasn’t fun at all.

I was depressed to the point where I did not wanted to not live. To not even exist or to disappear, like I’ve never been born.

No, it never made me suicidal, because I always thought about my mom and that she didn’t deserve that.

Often I felt I was such a horrible curse to her and I was asking myself:

“Why the fuck My mom had to have Me as her child since she deserves a lot better?”

Side Note: This is the first time when I share openly about all of those those thoughts and emotions.

There were a lot of guilt, remorse and regret.

Back to hating myself again, I was pretty much never concerned about me.

How I felt in 2 sentences when I wasn’t concerned about my health:

·There were holes in my mind and soul. Steady bleeding they were lost in the sea of endless emptiness.

·I didn’t have anything to give nor say to anyone. Completely useless, like my whole existence was as total waste.

How I felt in 2 sentences:

·Knowing how damaging the substance was, I was guessing that the holes weren’t only into my mind and soul, but there were also some into my organs.

10 or 12 years younger than now, I felt sick, old, very miserable and tired. The fact the heaviest addicts were shooting it, was scaring the s*it out of me

Finally

Achieving all of the beautiful dreams I had when I was on it no longer seemed possible, especially for a scumbag such as me.

OCD About The Cat

The only anxiety I had  was about my Cat.

No matter what she did not have to see the substance by any means.

Deep inside me I was heavily obsessed with that.

The feel that someone or something else was watching me through her eyes was making me restless for days.

Sometimes I was guessing it was the spirit of my mom’s mother (aka the beloved grandma I told you about).

Others I thought it was GOD, the Force itself or maybe a combination of them all.

Whatever it was, it was good, it was there to protect me and I knew that what I was doing was disappointing it seriously.

Because of that I worn my crew that cat did not have to see the substance by any means. And that otherwise I would break their hands.

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