Citation: Briggsy. "The Damage Done: An Experience with Cocaine (injected) (exp21824)". Erowid.org. Mar 19, 2007. erowid.org/exp/21824
Through all of my experiences none have ever lingered in the back of my mind or bothered me mentally as my experience shooting cocaine. I am forever changed by my (thankfully) short battle with injecting cocaine.
I once told myself I would never use a needle. They scare me, I never wanted to be a junkie. But i was, and it haunts my dreams.
I left for college with few serious drug experiences. I had done shrooms once, LSD once, and smoked pot on occasion. WHen I got to school I was thrown into the pit of wolves and came out battered but not beaten. I became involved with speed, meth, and cocaine quickly and soon was snorting lines and smoking crank on a daily basis.
THen came the needle. I first shot crank, which gave a mild rush and kept me there for a few hours, it felt good, but I also felt dirty from the needles. I could never administer them myself, my friend Andy always shot me up and he did himself. I never even knew people shot coke.
Then one night we got our usual 8 ball of each coke and speed separate and snorted a line of each. We got out the diabetic needles with the haunting bright orange cap with a 2 or 3 CC chamber. I went down the hall in my dorm to smoke a bowl with some friends and shortly returned slightly blazed and 'awake 'n tingly' from the coke and speed. Andy had a big smile and said 'wanna try something new?'. We had a talk about it and he laid out what I was getting ready to do.
I watched him load the needle. Prepare it in a spoon with water, drop the cotton into the clear liquid and I licked the spoon. The 'numbie' was extremely more intense then just licking the powder and my face was soon numb. He always did me first cause his hand would tremble after he did his and I didn't want a skin bump. So I prepared the torniquet and clenched my fist in anticipation.
He inserted the needle, registered it and I watched my blood flood the needle. Then he plunged and I released the tourniquet right after. I could feel it burn a little in my vien and then it hit me. The rush was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I coughed (dragon's breath, the sign of a great shot) and was thrown headfirst into a tunnel, moving at the speed of light. The tunnel sensation only lasted for a second, and I was once again in my room. I was made of metal, every sound has this metallic hiss behind it and there was a swarm of bees in my head. I gripped Andy's hand and opened my mouth trying to get more air. My whole body tensed and I squeezed with all my might. NOTHING HAD EVER HIT ME THIS HARD. Shooting coke was like standing on a construction site and getting a ton of bricks dropped on me. The first 30 seconds was sensory overload and the next 4-5 minutes was laying back on the bed, feeling the buzz in the air and the numb over my whole body. Then it was gone, no coming down. I was up to the top, then I crashed down like a ton of bricks.
Then I wanted more, oh god, I wanted more. I've never been greedy with drugs, never felt I was addicted, but after that first shot I was a coke fiend. I wanted it all to myself, each time he took a shot I checked to see if he was screwing me and doing more for himself. I was not myself. And I never am on coke, I am who it wants me to be. I was back down waiting for him to do his, I was not high, I didn't feel the coke or speed snorts from before, I just wanted to shoot more. We took turns and shot throughout the night. The 8 ball almost gone in 2 hours between two people. We were lucky we had speed to hold us. We mixed the little bit of coke that was left with some speed and did the last shot each.
It is the most tedious of processess to shoot, everything has to be right and Andy has to be incredibly careful not to miss the vein especially when he is fucked up and his body is all jacked. We did that shot and waited, then went to go smoke a cigarette. Sitting on the bench in front of the dorm I looked into the night sky and proclaimed. 'Goddammit I am a fucking Junkie.'
I hated it. I was a shell of a human being. I loved the drug and only liked my life when I was on the drug. I ran out of money and began to steal and hauk my shit for more coke. When spring break came (we started this in Jan) I had to go home for 10 days. I had no needles left, and no money to buy drugs with. My dad picked me up and said I looked like complete shit. I told him I was sick and and made the uncomfotable ride home.
I could only wear long sleeve shirts even when I slept for obvious reasons. I felt like shit for that whole week. I was dying. I wanted it, I needed it, but I was back home and didn't know how to get it. Those painful 10 days saved my life. I never shot coke ever again. THANK GOD. I know I'd be dead if I'd continued doing it. I know it.
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