Citation: Arkomann. "Life Is an Amusement Park and I Wanna Ride the Carousels: An Experience with Morphine (exp51709)". Erowid.org. Jul 16, 2018. erowid.org/exp/51709
||(ground / crushed)
Morphine and Amphetamine
This is more than a single experience: I inject on a daily basis and have done so for months.I prefer snorting when affordable and/or short of needles though, since it's always been my cup of tea and the syringe issue is comparatively new to me. However, I shall specify a single day in February 2006. Which one I can't tell, since days are generally all the same to me and I don't care about calendar. On the other hand, I can tell the events during that day.
Intravenous (IV) injection of crushed pills/tablets can be very dangerous due to unknown substances, binders, and fillers present. Any substance injected directly into the blood stream should be very pure. Clean needles and medically appropriate techniques should be used to avoid serious injury or death.]
Mike, a friend of mine from out of town, came to visit me over the weekend. Normally, I would sleep at least every other night or day, but this week I hadn't slept at all, so he caught me on the flip-side so to speak. (Play on words is symptomatical on amphetamine.) As usual, I had also taken heavy doses(?) of morphine, at least 10 mg./dose every now and then.
I crush the pills and snort them or solve them in boiling water, filtering it through cotton balls and inject the solution... so, I actually know the dosage (and purity, since it's medical stuff) -- although I have no concept of time, so I can't tell how much I actually ingest. I keep taking them drugs 'til they work, and something else catches my attention. ;)
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
This particular day I had also planned a big business meeting with my amphetamine dealer, who refused to meet with Mike, why I had to pick him up, follow him home to my place, leave him there, blow my nose and prick my arm to make it all the way and back again, before I could visit sugar mama. That's right, female dealer. However, when I got home with Mike and offered him some grade A stuff (again with the play on words, A is for amphetamine), but I got stuck in a conversation for all night, and eventually he fell asleep in my bed, while I rested in a chair doing morphine until he woke up and bothered me. I gave him some more amphetamine and repossessed my throne of dreams, i. e. the bed. At this point the morphine rush resulted in my favorite closed eye visuals, which were unfortunately interrupted, when he reminded me of a scheduled meeting with a third person at a café, and since he didn't know the way, I had to walk him there -- in the middle of my sleep deprived state of dreamlike confusion.
I met with his friend, whom I knew vaguely since before, but left them for themselves and went shopping for powder as planned the solar day before.
All the people at the café had made me paranoid, with all their watching eyes and chattering mouths, so I was scared to death, when I walked off alone to the dealers house. Of course I knew it all to be stimulantia psychosis and tried not to think in those patterns, even though strange cars seemed to follow me and crowds of people seemed to stand on awfully strategic locations. At the café I had gone to the toilet to freshen up, and coming out of there, I imagined everybody being able to tell. Normally I never keep drugs in my pockets and don't go out to bars or cafés to do drugs in public restrooms, since I'm a nervous guy with a vivid imagination and an illegal habit. I've had bad experiences with that before becoming more careful.
Well, I made it there and scored 10 grams of amphetamine, but not having slept all week, I fell asleep in her sofa and woke up dizzy and low on morphine, asked for a sandwich and a glass of water but couldn't keep it in my stomach, and it turned inside out. I spent what felt like hours (but I don't know, it could have been fifteen minutes, since my concept of time is pretty non-existant) worshipping the porcelain god, and had to rest for a long while, before being able to walk back home. With no analgesics or endorphines, moving my body would propagate processed food through the digestive tract with a painful sensation of organs bumping into each other. I felt like the wolf in Little Red Riding-Hood after having his abdomen slit open and filled with stones, waking up with a thirst and falling into the well.
This time I was even more scared walking down the streets, with all the dope in my pockets and my nose. I didn't feel better until I had come home and emptied a barrel of morphine in my vein. Maybe I slightly overdosed, maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but I slept away the rest of the weekend, and my sister had to walk Mike to the station. He was happy though, and he talks alot about visiting me again and doing more amphetamine.
Even though it's Hell to come down, which one eventually does while running out of drugs and money to buy them, and even though my arm is hurting from a dull needle, I still love it. I've always been one for rollercoasters. The high, the low, the nausea and the butterflies...even if I puke 'em up, and even if the fee is high. Life is an amusement park and I wanna ride the carousels.
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