I had a lapse in the spring of ‘016 on heroin, or what I thought was heroin. I was on 1mg or 2mg of suboxone at the time, but i was not taking it prescribed. My gf was out of town for the weekend and I decided I was gonna cop. So I stopped taking sub for 12 or so hours. I figured I might, or might not get high, but I’d roll the dice on that. It was Saturday night. So I hit up my old dealer Penguin, this short, kinda nerdy four eyes, Hispanic skater kid from Bushwick. He’s maybe only 20 yrs old. He usually had fire bags, and always gave me buns for $70. The stamps were usually “Tap Out” or something like that. So, he said he was coming through to my apartment, and the excitement of using again started to build up big time. I only snorted my heroin, and the smell and taste of it always gets me hyped, so that’s all I could think about. This dude is the biggest slow poke and liar, and it took him 2 or 3 hours to show up. He hits me up when he’s downstairs and i go get him. It’s been a min. since he’s seen me so he’s trying to have small talk and I’m all “Come on up man, so where is it? What you got?” He breaks out these unmarked stamps, and immediately I’m cringing inside. In my experience, any unmarked bags means the product could be bad. I start asking him what happened to his regular stuff, and he told me he lost his connect but he got a new one, and that’s where these stamps came from. I’m wary, so I only cop half a bundle and I’m yapping his ear off with questions about how good it is and what him and his boy thought of it. He tells me its really strong, and that his boy got in a car accident after just doing a bag or two. This should of perhaps been a red flag, but there’s no way I’m not going to do it at this point. My lapse is 75% completed. So i rail a bag…and I notice that it’s not that smell and taste that I’d learn to love. But I tell myself that it must just be different dope and that maybe I should do some more. I do another bag and then we go out on my fire escape to smoke a cigarette. I’m not really feeling high. We go back in and I think i threw on some TV, and then next thing I know I’m re-gaining some consciousness in a hospital bed. But still, I only remember bits and pieces. I am not fully conscious and aware until the following night (Monday night). My girlfriend and parents explained to me that I must have blacked out at some point on Saturday night because I had stopped responding to her texts. My gf got worried on Sunday and called my parents who went by my workplace and our apartment. No luck. So they got the landlord to open the door and I was passed out, face down on my bed with tons of bloody scratches on my back from my 6 month old puppy trying to wake me up. smfh. They called an ambulance and took me to the hospital. At some point I woke up at the hospital and tried to get out of my bed and look for heroin in my bag and jacket. My folks filmed this, and it’s just so hard to watch. I’m yelling about people taking my dope, being violent towards everyone and getting the attention of the cops in the hospital. I don’t remember any of this, and I don’t remember being taken home the next day (Monday). From watching the videos, and from what my parents told me, it seems like whatever I took that night was NOT dope, probably some kind of benzo because of the long black out, memory lose, and my abhorrent behavior. Apparently there was a bag, or half a bag of the “heroin” left which they gave to the doctor. He insisted it be thrown out instead of tested, because the cops were there and could arrest me for possession. So we’ll never know what it was, but I believe the doctor said what happened was not an OD. None the less, it’s been the worst experience of my life, and my family’s. It should have been my bottom and a good enough reason to never do drugs again. But you guys know how it goes.
After that I went to an IOP and spent two months there, clean and sober. To be honest, it was the best treatment experience I’ve had, but like clockwork after I left I got back into using again. During this time I was also on subs, and I thought that I would use my meds as prescribed during the week, switch on to dope for the weekend, and then jump back on subs after my fun. Great plan…best of both worlds right?! Right…so I told myself I’m still in recovery, I’m just gonna chip. Flash forward a month or so, I’m using almost every day of the week, really whenever i can afford it. I have re-connected with a middle man, or a middle woman rather, who I had met through reddit roll call. Basically on that sub reddit there are different posts for different cities/areas in the country. People will say “Looking for a friend” or “Anyone need a friend?” which is the equivalent to “I’m, looking for a dope connect” and “I have a connect/I can get dope” (side note, do you guys know about using Craigslist and Reddit roll call to get dope? It’s insane how open and easy it is to do. I’m happy to delve more into it and I don’t give a fuck about blowing up that spot) So I’m getting it now through this chick, let’s call her Cee and I’m seeing her as much as I can. Money kept my habit from ever getting very big at this point. I was only buying a bun at a time cause it costed $120….She charges me two bags for every bun I get, and that’s the minimum. I go meet her off the J train in Bushwick, and we go meet her connect Ghost. A Dominican guy who has some pretty fire stamps, highlights include “Holocaust” and “Dead End”. So sometime in December, just a few months back, the city got hit with a good amount of snow. I had the day off, and I needed to cop because I was sick, and hadn’t had anything since the day prior. Buying heroin is probably the most stressful thing ever for me, especially when having to deal with a middle person AND a drug dealer. I just increases the chances of something going wrong, or one of them not being around when I needed my dope. and of course i always needed it as soon as fucking possible. So that snowy morning I’m trying to reach this girl(who sleeps most of the day usually) and she’s not sure if Ghost is gonna be working, or if she can reach him etc. I beg, I offer to throw her some bars to sweeten the pot. I’m waiting and waiting and finally she gives me the go ahead. I run out of the house, get on the G and I’m off to beautiful Bushwick to cop my bun. I meet her by the train and I can tell she’s pissed for having to leave the house in this weather. We end up waiting, per usual, for him, and finally he shows up so I can get my $120 bun. Desperate. As she’s getting that from him, she turns around and says “Ghost says if you smack me as hard as you can in the face, he’ll give us a free bun” She has a smile on her face, and these dudes in the car are laughing. So I laugh it off..but she keeps looking at me like she’s waiting for a response. I’ve been a desperate dirt bag, but I was not about to hit a girl in the face for drugs. So i nervously say ” hah hah no way, I’m not gonna hit you” She gets me my bun, and as we’re walking away she starts yelling at me for not hitting her for the extra dope. I’m trying to explain to her that I thought he was just joking around and that It’s ridicules but she’s insistent that he would have given it to us and she’d be fine with it. So now I’m thinking about the extra dope I could of had, and I’m really upset I didn’t smack her…But none the less, I’m ecstatic and I’ve got the runny nose already, so I reach into my pocket to pull out one of the stamps from the bundle(which for anyone that doesn’t know is generally 10 stamps wrapped together by a rubber band.) I have the stamp in my hand and I run down into the L train station. On the platform i rip open the bag, and snort it up. A feeling of relief washes over me. I get on the L train to start heading home. I reach into my pockets to organize them and make sure i keep the bun somewhere safe. Keys, check…wallet..check…phone check..ripped up stamp which I had snorted just then..check…what the fuck, where is my bundle?? Now I start to panic, just a little, cause I have a lot of pockets. I go through them one by one, two, then three times over. It’s fucking gone. I remember a few people staring at me because of how frantically I was searching my jacket, and then my scream once I realized I lost it. My heart rate was through the roof, I was trembling. I got down on the floor of the subway car and was looking around, to the confusion of onlookers. I decided I would get off at the next stop and back track. I get back to the platform I had been at, and I walk it back and forth. Over and over. No stamps. I search almost every foot of the station, all the sets of the stairs, which are wet and filthy. I end up back on the street, which is covered in snow, and slush puddles. This is my worst nightmare. I hate myself and I want to die. I start from where I had copped, and I shit you not, I crawled on my hands and knees through the snow and muck. Honestly, it would have been a miracle if I had found it, because the stamps are white and would blend right into the snow. It’s like a cliche at this point, the junkie or crackhead on his hands and knees looking for that last hit.
Now I’m standing outside the L busy train station, hipsters and Hispanic people walking around me through the snow, I do not give a fuck that I look like a crazy person picking up pieces of trash in the snow to look at them..so desperate. I’m devastated because I think I had $30 left in my bank account at that point after copping, what was I supposed to do? That bun was supposed to keep me well for at least a day or two. So, the addict part of my brain is telling me that I can’t go home until I find dope, even if i am completely broke because of it. I texted Cee, but she was way gone at that point and wasn’t coming back. I begged her to let me cop some off of her..but I knew she was not the sharing type. After a good 20 minutes of my pathetic and hopeless search on the sludgy ground, I notice a couple older bearded guys hanging around the train station who were looking over at me curiously. They looked like derelicts, possibly homeless. Could they have found my bun? I then watch a Hispanic dude gesture to one of them, and he follows him halfway down the stairs to the station. The first homeless dude yells up to his buddy “Yo john, you want to two right?” I can’t believe this is happening….I’m fucking SAVED! What are the chances that I run into some junkies copping, from who I presume to be Ghost, right infront of the station. Maybe the odds aren’t crazy, but I didn’t think the Montrose L train was an open air dope market in 2016. So as this dealer is walking up the stairs, I casually ask him for 3 bags. Like i know him and I know whats good. I’m kinda surprised because he doesn’t even ask any questions, just tells me to walk with him. As I presumed, the three bags were the same brand as the ones I had lost. I had found Ghost on my own and at least I would have some dope. I later found out the only reason he even knew I was cool is because of this bright yellow jacket I would sometimes wear when copping with this girl Cee, so he recognized me as that “big banana looking motherfucker”. That day I headed home feeling the most intense mix of happiness, relief, anger, and self hatred ever. But least a had a few bags, until tomorrow which is just another day.
Sorry that was so long guys…i just kept remembering more and more details as I went along and couldn’t stop. But it felt good to get that off my chest. Hopefully it makes sense. Anyways, I only have 90 days clean and sober at this point, but I never ever want go back to having either the extreme anxiety/suffering OR the extreme relief and pleasure from that insane heroin lifestyle. Keep up the good work