Dispatches from the Epidemic
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A little confessional backstory:
I did one line of meth in my life. I was 20 and faced with some unusually intense peer pressure. My no-drugs-but-pot moral code did not fly with these people because they were methheads, but at the time, they were my friends and I wanted them to think I was cool. So like an easily impressionable weakling who wants nothing but to be accepted by the crowd, I caved in and said "fuck it, okay." I figured, might as well...no big deal...the Japs did it to stay awake in World War II...this is nothing but an extremely unhealthy chemistry experiment. So I sucked that shit up my nose.
Suddenly a very bad taste came to my mouth. If you've ever chewed an IBprofen tab, it's about the same nasty taste. After I had a beer, the bad taste went away, but by then my brain had been mercilessly fucked by poisonous chemicals, so it went haywire, spitting lightning bolts of nonsense throughout my entire body. My nerves were dancing around, hungry for some more action (even after having been fucked) -but unfortunately the methheads were not very exciting - apparently they did this same thing every night (?!), but still, what the fuck? Goddamnit, I'm ready to have a frantic conversation about manic mania world domination over here and all you can do is lose more of your money at video poker?? I tried to psychologically build tolerance so I could get more on their boring level, but I couldn't stop thinking and rethinking and analyzing and generally going nuts, breaking my nuts out of their shells and eating them, then spitting them out all over everyone because they tasted like IBprofen. From the moment that shit entered my system, I wanted it out.
But what if I stay like this forever? I wondered, paranoid, looking around the bar in case the cops or my parents walked in. What if I want more and I become a addict? What will happen to me? Shit, this is some experiment!
Lucky for me, I miraculously overcame the tragedy of that one line and got straight. I was so relieved that I became fascinated with tweakers. Sure, I fucking hated the stuff, but I'm in the tiny, tiny minority. Millions of people ruin their their lives for it. Why?
All I know is this: Meth, you suck. I'm onto you.
A little confessional backstory:
I did one line of meth in my life. I was 20 and faced with some unusually intense peer pressure. My no-drugs-but-pot moral code did not fly with these people because they were methheads, but at the time, they were my friends and I wanted them to think I was cool. So like an easily impressionable weakling who wants nothing but to be accepted by the crowd, I caved in and said "fuck it, okay." I figured, might as well...no big deal...the Japs did it to stay awake in World War II...this is nothing but an extremely unhealthy chemistry experiment. So I sucked that shit up my nose.
Suddenly a very bad taste came to my mouth. If you've ever chewed an IBprofen tab, it's about the same nasty taste. After I had a beer, the bad taste went away, but by then my brain had been mercilessly fucked by poisonous chemicals, so it went haywire, spitting lightning bolts of nonsense throughout my entire body. My nerves were dancing around, hungry for some more action (even after having been fucked) -but unfortunately the methheads were not very exciting - apparently they did this same thing every night (?!), but still, what the fuck? Goddamnit, I'm ready to have a frantic conversation about manic mania world domination over here and all you can do is lose more of your money at video poker?? I tried to psychologically build tolerance so I could get more on their boring level, but I couldn't stop thinking and rethinking and analyzing and generally going nuts, breaking my nuts out of their shells and eating them, then spitting them out all over everyone because they tasted like IBprofen. From the moment that shit entered my system, I wanted it out.
But what if I stay like this forever? I wondered, paranoid, looking around the bar in case the cops or my parents walked in. What if I want more and I become a addict? What will happen to me? Shit, this is some experiment!
Lucky for me, I miraculously overcame the tragedy of that one line and got straight. I was so relieved that I became fascinated with tweakers. Sure, I fucking hated the stuff, but I'm in the tiny, tiny minority. Millions of people ruin their their lives for it. Why?
All I know is this: Meth, you suck. I'm onto you.
posted by Jeanie at
6:40 AM
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