Crystal Meth for me was an experience I never could have dreamed of. It gave me the happiness and light heartedness only Marijuana could, but with a kick like i had never imagined. My body hummed every time i took a hit and I loved it. It was almost like my body was beginning to thrive for the first time. I felt and saw things i had never experienced before ,and for once i knew what it meant to be able to truly excape. There were no strange men laying filthy hands upon my bruised body, my mother wasn't a whore, and i had never been more complete. This was the reality i had been so desperately craving though those around me shunned me for it. I had everything i'd ever wanted in the palm of my hand and i wasn't willing to give it up.
The older…show more content… Winter came and with it the dawning of my nineteenth birthday, along with the knowledge that i had survived another year of hell. I had managed to stay high for a solid six years now, though i don't know if it was the realization that i had been high for so long or the fact that i had been alone that triggered the three days i spent crying. Either way the days that had followed didn't bode well for anyone who came near me. I was a junkie with a chimp on my shoulder. I cried for the loss of my innocence, for the mother who never loved me, for the father i would never know, and for the little girl who never knew love. I cried because i had finally reached the point in which i knew i would never be able to return. No man would ever love a whore, no business would hire a junkie, and no one would love the person i had become. I was doomed to live a life of lonley desperation fueled by my own selfishly stupid needs, I would never know what it was like to look into my childs eyes for the first time as my adoring husband looked on with love and devotion. I would never have the white picket fence filled with two dogs and endless communality. I would…show more content… I just needed a break from my own mind. An escape from the reality that i had created for myself. I wanted the owner of that seedy motel to send me a hopeful glance as I walked out my room, I needed him to see that i was still here inside this body i no-longer recognized. I didn't want him to see the barley held together mess i had become. I needed.... I just needed someone to see that i was more than what i was made to be because i couldnt see it any-longer and for the first time in six years I was scared. I was scared of who I had become, of who I had to face in the mirror, and of loosing the only person who had ever looked at me with any semblance of understanding. Though looking back i can see that i had given him no other choice but to give up on me. He had held on for years always silentley begging me with his eyes to get help but i would ignore his pleading stare as I made my way to my dealer for the next hit of the very drug i had came to love. I didn't care that it was slowly killing me, I was already dead inside so it only seemed fitting that the inside should match the
