AHHHHH. This is... To say the least... A story. A story that some will find to be a wild fantasy. It's a long wall of text but there is a lot of context to this story so there will be no bullshit. For those of you who read it I imagine you're in for a good ride and trust me - this won't disappoint. I consider this "the worst moment" of my entire life. Through jail, 5 lethal overdoses, 6 rehabs, multiple Detox's, mental hospitals, psych wards, homelessness, the pain and suffering I caused myself, and so forth - this single incident here is where my life went from a deep dark hole to the bedrock. The depths of hell that even the worst offenders in history are afraid to go.
The day started off as just your average Southern Californian day. I had been shooting heroin and meth in a Jimmy Johns bathroom all morning. I have been binging for a couple of days and was worried about entering a psychosis soon from being awake on the Meth for over 48 hours so I decided to call a friend.
"Hey man! What's up! Come over and smoke a little bit with me - we gotta catch up"
So I gladly accepted. As I walked over there I could feel how tired I was in my muscles. My cardio was slow, simple walking sped up my heart beat, I was breathing heavily, sweating, I felt dirty, and I really needed a shower. I walked as slowly as I could and had to mentally keep myself calm as I walked - i felt as if my heart was going to beat out of my chest even though I was on heroin too, but I've heard plenty of stories where people's hearts had exploded on speed balls. I arrived at his house 20-25 minutes later and once I got inside my buddy instantly told me I looked like shit. I asked him if I could take a shower and throw my clothes in his drier and he told me that I could. He threw me a towel so I took my clothes off and wrapped myself in the towel. I grabbed the black case out of my pocket that had syringes, black tar heroin, a bag of meth, Angel Dust, a spoon, a lighter, some cottons, and a few alcohol wipes. I brought that with me into the bathroom just in case. I trusted my buddy - he was my only REAL friend here in California - but I didn't trust anyone with my drugs. I threw the clothes in the drier and I proceeded to take a shower. I quickly shampooed my hair and washed my body and for another 20 minutes I turned the shower on freezing cold and sat there letting the water flow down my back as I rested against the wall. I felt ready to get out and dried myself off. I grabbed my clothes, got dressed, and went into his living room where he was rolling up a blunt. We began chatting about how I've been doing. I lied to him about a whole bunch of stuff to get off the fact that I was a homeless drug addict that was barely breathing; and he believed me. I'm not sure he was really paying attention when I was speaking but it was just enough time killing for him to finish the blunt. He lit it up, took a few hits, and passed it to me. I held on to it for a little bit like a fucking asshole and asked him to turn on the TV. I leaned back and began taking hit after hit, ashing it in the ash tray before it got all over the couch. I could see in his face he wanted to say something and I took notice and passed it to him. He did the same as I did: held on to it for a while. Once he passed it back to me he got up and turned the TV on. He watched some random TV show about the 20s and prohibition or some shit that I didn't ask any questions about. I don't watch TV or pay any attention to it but I just like the background noise. When things get too quiet while I'm this high I start to lose my mind and go crazy. It was only 9 or 10am in the morning. My buddy told me I could spend the night here if I wanted to but he had to go to work. He said keep in contact with him if I needed anything from him, he showed me where his weed and his bong was, where I could sleep if I needed to, and basically everything a human needs to survive. He clapped me up, walked out the door, shut it behind him, and I was ready to wreak havoc...
Once he left the first thing I did was run into the bathroom. I didn't even bother to close to the door. I grabbed my case and pulled the spoon out. I crushed up some crystal meth and threw it in the spoon. I ripped a piece of tar off a big piece with some tweezers I found and threw that in the spoon as well. I filled a syringe up to 60CC with water and sprayed it into the spoon. I picked it up, held a lighter under it for a few moments, waited for a bubble from the heat, and set it back down. I used the cap from the syringe and I mixed up the drugs until they fully dissolved into the water. I grabbed the cotton out of the case and threw it in the spoon. I watched as it began to suck up a little bit of the water. I put the drugs back in the case and everything else except for the spoon and the syringe. I looked around for a tourniquet of some kind but the only thing I found was a hairband. I wrapped that around my arms multiple times and quickly my veins were popping out like no other. It began to hurt how much I was suffocating my arm but I easily found a vein and got the needle in there. I shot it up, pulled it out, and quickly took the hairband off of my arm. I sat there for a few seconds waiting for the initial orgasms to come on and they did - just as expected. I packed all the shit up, wiped the counter where I had placed the burnt spoon off with a piece of toilet paper, flushed it down the toilet, and made it back to the living room. I instantly began pacing around the room. I felt like such an asshole for doing this again. I needed to calm down. Once I calmed down I would officially be done shooting meth for the day. I made my way to the fridge and looked around in there for something to eat. I didn't see anything that looked appealing to me at the time. So I went into the freezer. As soon as I opened it there I saw a frosted bottle of Tito's. I knew that offset orange color label any day of any given week. I quickly scavenged the kitchen for a glass and found one. I grabbed the bottle of Vodka and poured half a cup. I went into the refrigerator and found some orange juice. I didn't even bother to pour that in a cup. I took a small swig of the orange juice and then chugged the entire cup of vodka. I took a big sip of the orange juice and let out a big "AHHHHHH". I could feel the liquid ever-so-slightly burning my insides as it moved throughout my body. I poured another half cup of the vodka. I repeated the same steps and for my last drink I poured a quarter of a cup. Sip of orange juice, chugged the vodka, sip of orange juice, loud gasp of relief, and maybe a gag or two - but overall satisfaction. I put the golden/orangish cap back onto the bottle and put it back in the freezer. I took a small sip of the orange juice, swished it around my mouth, put the cap on, and put it back in the refrigerator. I could feel the warm fuzzy feeling kind of trumping the meth and the heroin high. I became a little unstable in terms of my balance, I had a little bit more energy but it felt more natural and needed, I didn't feel as stuck up; arrogant; and angry. My mind felt loose and free. I proceeded to grab the weed from the drawer that was under the coffee table and the bong out of his bed room. I packed it up, lit the bowl, pulled out the slider, and pulled all the smoke out of the chamber as I could. I held it in, blew out, and repeated these steps very very quickly for 2 more bowl packs. The combination of the Heroin, Meth, Vodka, and Weed was settling with me very nice. I actually felt really good for the first time in a long time. I don't really drink at all, I never smoke weed - but in that particular moment I was in heaven. The opiates, weed, and alcohol basically disabled the meth from making me all jittery and full of twitches while also causing me this great euphoria that radiated from my body like heat. The sandman himself gently blessed my eyes with heaviness - something I wanted deep down inside for many hours now. My body became what felt like paralyzed on the couch; I could move if I wanted to but just sitting here with my head back felt like magic. My toes tingled with pure euphoria and life seemed so perfect. But this would only last for a minute or two.
For no reason at all I shot up off the couch in pure mania and ran back to the bathroom. I was tense, full of anxiety for the future, and desperate for what I was about to do to happen THIS INSTANT. Quickly I unzipped the case. I couldn't stop myself from doing what I was about to do. I guess it was just pure addiction I was trying to battle with at that point. I had no control over what I was doing. Pure impulse took control and I did what I felt had to be done. But in the moment, I didn't think anything of it anyways - nothing I was doing seemed wrong to me then. I grabbed a Baggie, poured out the powder on the counter, chopped it up with a credit card that I kept in the phone case of my phone, laid my head on the counter and snorted a very big line of the Devils powder. Angel Dust.
I lifted my head up and I fully realized what the fuck I did... I instantly left the bathroom and started to commence damage control. But I had no tools to allow me to reduce any damage. I was completely fucked. I was high on Heroin, Meth, and Weed, I was drunk on Alcohol, and soon... Angel Dust would rip apart my mind like a tornado. I plopped myself on the couch, I took a deep breath, and went to a playlist on my phone. I clicked on "Da List Pt 2" and clicked shuffle. I thought my Phone was broken because I didn't hear anything but I realized it was turned down.
"It was Friday afternoon in the middle of June"
Jam by A Tribe Called Quest calmed my nerves for a brief moment.
Within another 30 to 60 seconds it began to kick in. I felt the raw and uncut energy that PCP provided for you. I felt the power of it taking over every inch of my body piece by piece. It kind of felt like a computer download - PCP was moving in percentages to pure takeover my mind, spirit, and body. Once it had enough power i became full of rage and energy that I couldn't expend no matter how hard I tried. I got up off the couch and I started running in circles around the living room. That was my first order of business. I remember being filled with pure anxiety from so much energy. I couldn't handle it. I was too tired, I was on a lot of downers, and I knew, as a simple fact of the universe, that this drug was going to kick my fucking ass. I continued to run and run and at some points I would hold my breath to expend more energy. Randomly I would flop to the ground and begin doing push-ups. After a small and quick workout session I ran to the refrigerator. There, I pulled out the Tito's, unscrewed the cap, and began sucking down Vodka straight from the bottle. I couldn't handle anymore and slammed it down on the counter. I couldn't see myself, but I knew I had this killer look in my eye as I breathed heavily trying to get the burning taste of vodka out of my throat and mouth. After it all went away I had to take a knee for a moment. I needed to take a tactical pause. My life was becoming full of fear. My reality slowly began to dissociate from real life. The mixture of drugs I was on went from beautiful to pure unadulterated hell. I was PETRIFIED at this point. I crawled away under a table in the kitchen and curled up into the fetal position. At this point my thoughts and sub-conscious became reality. I tapped into a part of the universe that should never be discovered. The Devil himself began to speak to me personally. His influence reigned supreme over life itself and I listened to every word he spoke to me. He spoke in a very soft and monotone voice. It wasn't deep and it wasn't soft, but it was approachable. I felt like this man could be my business partner but I knew the immense amount of power he had over the world as a whole. When he spoke it was like speakers being placed in my head - it was loud, it was high quality, and I couldn't NOT hear it. He asked me ever so kindly to stop putting my shields up. He wanted me to take down all my mental defenses. He told me it would make me a better person and easily convinced me. So I did. When I did so, it felt... Easy in a sense. I shouldn't have had that much control over my mind but I can't argue with it. I began to instantly suffer from an Ego Death. When I did so, this fucked up Angel began making me relive moments I could never live down. He overloaded my brain with moments where I had been beaten by my father for numerous years, the times I was backed into corners and beaten up my gang members and robbed, the embarrassment I caused myself in front of my family while on a crazy amount of drugs, how badly I fucked up my life from getting high in all the schools I attended, how "funny" my homeless life was, moments of complete vulnerability from overdoses and "begging for my mommy", he even caused me to remember embarrassing moments where I said stupid things to girls that I cringed about, and so forth. He laughed louder and louder as he showed me more and more events. I began to punch myself repeatedly in the head over and over; something I did often when I went crazy like this. Suddenly I disappeared from where I was and entered an inception like reality. I could not tell what was real anymore. I didn't know if I was ACTUALLY in my buddies house or if that was apart of the trip, I couldn't tell if that moment where I was punching myself happened weeks ago or just a couple seconds ago, and now - I was in a very dark room. I got up off the couch I knew I was laying on and put my arms out to feel for a wall. I was shuffling my feet slowly so I didn't fall and hurt myself. There were things on the ground that I kept tripping on but I never fell. I eventually found the light switch and turned the lights on. Once I turned it on I look around - what do I see? Blood everywhere. Dead bodies lay all over the floor with their eyes sewed shut. When I had first seen them I was so startled. I began to have a panic attack. My breathing was increased, thoughts of pure disbelief conjured in my mind but I had to believe it - I WAS SEEING THIS SHIT. I couldn't think straight as I poured with sweat and struggle trying to breath. I look and realize I know these people. They're friends and people I've heard of that have died. Some of them had faces I couldn't make out - they were blurry, but others I knew very very very well. I couldn't stand looking at their naked, pale, blue lipped, and soulless bodies anymore. I ran as fast as I could down a hall way. I ran and I ran but there were no rooms or no end in sight. I stopped because I needed to figure out where I was going. I turned around and realized that the room I was in was gone. So.. With no other options, I turned back around and began running again. I started crying while I was running. I had this ominous feeling deep in my gut that I was going to die in here. As I screamed out for God, praying and screaming his name, a small chuckle echoed and I saw a door ahead of me. I stopped. Suddenly, my face, Flabbergasted, became overwhelmed with hope. I ran to the door and stood in front of it. I took a deep breath and opened it. I felt a slight smile come across my face or maybe it was a little bit of relief and happiness. As the door swung open, the way I remember it was in slow motion. It all happened very slowly. I could see the dark dark dark green walls of peeled off wall paper, then the door opened a little more and I saw dark brown wooden stairs on the left side of the room that turned towards the right after 7 or 8 steps leading to an unknown area. As the door opened more I could see a counter. Kind of like a dark/polished oak counter. Then it opened more and there I saw it. My mother hanging from a rope with her wrists slit up and down. Her eyes made contact with mine and she smiled with bloody teeth. The sight put me on my ass. I turned over with my butt up in the air and started screaming. I was crying my eyes out. In my head I felt the Devil take over again. He made me stand up. I was so fucking scared. He had complete control of my entire body. I tried to fight the force but I couldn't. He brought me to the counter and made me stare at my hanging mother. He appeared behind her in a sharp black tuxedo, slicked back black hair, a skinny body, nice shoes, and pale white skin. His face had no real attributes that I could explain. It was just plain and average. There was no real detailed features to him. He began to rub his hands up and down my mothers legs and stroking her in places I'm not going to mention. Figure them out for yourself. I felt the pure sense of despair, helplessness, fear, and... No. There's no combination of words that can explain what I felt. You cannot relate to what I felt here I do not believe. If you think you can leave a comment but it was pure FUCKING HELL. HELL isnt even the fucking word. I looked down and a note written in very nice cursive appeared. I don't remember what the note said but it basically was a letter from my mom saying how much of a fuck up I am. She had to kill herself because of me. It was my fault. I was a fuckup. And then at the very end I distinctly remember "Go fuck yourself (MyName)" and that emotionally destroyed everything left in my body. I appeared back in the kitchen but in a new location. I was standing in the kitchen next to the vodka bottle. I had no idea if this was reality or not. I took another swig of the vodka for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I thought this was pure imagination. I put it back on the table and I remember feeling absolutely nothing. It was as if I was completely sober. The only problem was... I felt ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. It was blissful in a way but I couldn't feel it. I just knew in my head what was supposed to be happening. My brain began to physically hurt and my physical brain began to feel like it was twitching and dying in my skull. It caused me to wince my eyes and bend over in pain. That's all I could feel though. Then, like a train going as fast as it possibly can go, all of the emotion I felt from seeing my mother and dead people hit me with full force. I stopped breathing it was so intense. My knees began to wobble and shake and I fell over. I don't remember anything other than standing up some time later - I truly believe I had a seizure right there but I can't say for sure. Once I got up, it happened again. The emotional pain was more painful than any physical harm I had ever felt. It crippled me. It was so deep, so sharp, and so intense is caused PHYSICAL pain. It actually hurt. I was still struggling very hard trying to calm myself down. There was no way to talk to myself mentally and calm myself down because I didn't know what reality WAS reality. I was fucked. This had been going on for many many many hours at this point (it had felt like days) and so I made a decision. I slowly, while shuffling my feet across the carpet, pulled a cord out of the wall socket. I ripped the other side out of the lamp with full force and it sure as hell came out. I took the cord and wrapped it around my neck. I went to the bathroom with the cord around my neck and tied the other end to the sink. I opened the door as far as I could, I got into a sprint position and told myself this would all be over very soon. Without looking up I took off ready to snap my neck in half and die a miserable and painful death full of suffering.
I don't know what time that took place but I woke up in the hospital 86 hours later according to my buddy. I had been put into a medically induced coma. My core body temperature had reached over 107 degrees for over several hours from the drugs which caused multiple heat strokes I was told, and then the little stunt I pulled? Where I tied the cord around my neck? Yeah. I ran straight into the corner of the door hinge splitting the top part of my head open causing major brain swelling and a badass concussion. I was knocked unconscious with a decent amount of blood loss.
My buddy, surprisingly, was there with me for EVERYTHING. He stuck around with me for the entire hospital visit and told me to not even worry about the damage I did to the house. I broke lamps, I guess I smashed that bottle of vodka all over the counter, I broke one of the kitchen table chairs, I punched a hole through the wall, I knocked things off of the tables all over the floor and basically turned the living room upside down. He even personally walked me up to the Mental Ward which was a few floors upstairs. He gave me a hug, wished me the best, and told me to call him when I was out - he'd pick me up and take me out to eat. What a fucking great friend.
That night I discovered what hell, if it exists, really is. I always imagined it as some all red underground lair where you had to work for 24 hours a day in painful heat for the rest of eternity. But no, it's worse than that.
It's mental torture that you cannot escape. Ever. Forever.
TL;DR - read it lol. Idk what to tell u. PCP sent me to hell, went into medically induced coma from a failed suicide attempt and heat strokes from overheating. Drugs r bad. K?
Submitted September 18, 2016 at 09:07AM by Im_Flabbergasted http://ift.tt/2d9L6pU Drugs
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