Yesterday was just one of those days.
Sitting in my living room with the dog barking at a near painful levels, staring blankly into the TV with blood running down through the short blond hairs in my beard. Finally I noticed it after about five minutes when my roommate came in, handed me a Kleenex and muttered, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I get up and walk out, I don't need to hear that shit right now.
For the most part, I really do not have any valid reason for getting high. I suppose it keeps me from flipping out constantly, which happens anyways, and bashing skulls against concrete. I work in a pretty high stress environment, dealing with truckers and menopause crazy women sitting next to me, and that seems to be one of the reasons that I smoke a pack of camels a day and scrape resin out of a glass pipe on my lunch break while driving with my knee down country roads at 65 mph. Maybe that's the reason why I made a call last night that I hadn't in more than four years.
So anyway, as I walk down the stairs I get this itch. Not really an itch, more like a burning urge, to break a promise I made so long ago. I pick up the phone call my coke guy and ask a horridly embarrassing question,
"Hey...um...can you get H?"
"What the fuck is that?"
At this point I am really regretting making this phone call. After about 30 seconds of long unadulturated silence...
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
How many times am I going to hear that today.
"Nevermind, forget I asked."
About five minutes later I get another phone call from the guy who gave me my connection's number. I could go through the dialogue of the conversation, but...well you could probably guess the details of the transcript. In hindsight, I got lucky, and I mean very lucky. You hear about people who OD because they get back on the horse after not riding for a long time (in my case 4 years) and accidentally go under for good. Maybe that is what I wanted, maybe not, it doesn't matter. The risk was there and I missed out on something I never should have picked up in the first place. In a sense I kept my promise to stay away from it, but the more and more I think about it, the more I realize that I didn't keep my promise. I got lucky because in my heart I was already crawling back to black.