Citation: bobthebuilder. "Hate, Hate, Love? Relationship: An Experience with Cocaine & Methamphetamine (exp55116)". Erowid.org. Apr 9, 2009. erowid.org/exp/55116
I have come to the conclusion, after dabbling for a few years, that uppers are not for me. I tried, used, and abused many drugs in my 18 years of life. This is an account of my experiences with cocaine, and methamphetamine.
I have used cocaine occasionally for several years. Usually it is given to me for free, and of sub-par quality. I did it because it was around, and I have never felt in danger of becoming addicted to it. In all the hundreds of times that I have used it, only once have the good effects outweighed the bad. The 'good' effects, are a very quick euphoria. Increased ability to talk, and socialize. Usually 5-30 min of this. Than the desire to do more overshadows the good effects, and I repeat until the supplys run out. It never feels as good as the first line.
When the supply runs out, is when the bad effects kick in. A strong urge to do more coke. When my body realizes that no more is coming. I imediately fall into shit mode. Body and Mind feel exuasted, and terrible, until sleep is acheived many hours later. Laying in bed absorbed in my own self loathing, sometimes brings bouts of productive introspective meditation though. I always tell myself 'never again' the high is not worth the comedown. But end up using again several months later.
The one time when the high was worth the comedown, was when I split an eightball with my brother, and we were able to communicate deeply, on a level we hadn't been able to since we were little kids.
Now, these are the average effects. What makes my situation different than the average persons, are the 'weird' effects. The way, every once in a while, when I do to much, to quick, that a noticeable effect in the way my brain works takes effect. Its hard to explain, but Iíll try. I feel... well weird. My thoughts become, detached. Uncomfortable. It makes me feel numb, and stupid. Thatís the best way I can explain it, and I will elaborate more on it at the end of my story.
Than there is Meth, were the effects always fall under the weird catagory. It started out innocently enough, tried it a few times, liked it a lot, and soon was sucked into a bad addiction. I was doing a few grams a week. Usually a half a gram, or a gram, over the course of a day or two. Not only was I addicted, but the drug made me Crazy. I knew I had a problem, and was able to stop myself cold turkey after 3 months of this. I was real proud of myself, being able to stop before I destroyed my life and all. I had seen others who weren't so lucky.
But faultyness strikes, and about 4 months later I caved to a 'friend's' peer pressure, and did it again. I reasoned that since I wasn't addicted anymore, that it would be O.K. to use it in moderation every several weeks, or months. And surprisingly it worked. I was able to use every once in a while. The only problem was that the bad mental effects didn't stop just because I hadn't been up for 3-5 days on it.
Lets get into those. I have smoked, snorted, hotrailed, and eaten meth. But my prefered method is smoking. After the first few hits off of a bowl the effects hit. Great Euphoria. I'm up, Iím on top of the world, like fucking superman. If friends are around, we talk nonstop for hours about all sourts of stuff. And not the hallow meaningless talk that coke brings about, but important stuff.
Load another bowl, and repeat, repeat repeat, untill Iíve torn through half a gram, and the effects hit boiling point, where Iím glistening sweat, and have to force myself to slow down, for fear of cardiac arrest.
Than the Tweak runs out, and thats when shit changes for the worse. Iíve been up for a long time, and am quite spun. Its like my mind flips a switch, and turns into some sourt of reptilian, sub-human thought process. It should be noted that I don't think these effects are normal to the average person. It seems more like how tweakers act after they have been up for a week. I have only been up all night. Paranoia, and delusions set in. I find myself tearing through the carpet for hours on end finding 'shards'. I know they are not Meth, but I do it anyways. The truth sets in when I try to smoke some of them. They are random bits of god knows what. I feel terrible for what I have done to myself, but I know I have another day, or two before I will sleep.
I don't want people to see me like that, so I stay locked in my room. Listening to music. I think people are watching me. I know this can't be, but the thought won't leave my mind. Every noise, and bump is someone coming to raid the house. Cops, or robbers somehow think that 7am when everyone is home, is the perfect time to strong-arm me. I lay in bed with all my muscles tensed in this state of absolute mental torture, untill sleep saves me, and I wake up feeling only slightly off. I always tell myself 'never again' the high is not worth the comedown, but end up using again several months later.
What happened the other day, has made me swear off Uppers FOR GOOD. (Iíve said this a million times, but I think I mean it this time) It was New year 06, and the party was winding down. Some stranger has Coke for sale, so I buy an 8-ball, for $100. I, my girlfriend, and her friend K go back to my house. And start in on it. The shit only weighed out to 2 grams, instead of the 3.5 that it should have, so at first I was pissed. But it soon became obvious that this was some of the best, least cut coke, I had ever come across.
It starts out o.k. but soon I the 'weird' effects kicked in. I was just feeling mentally off. My thought process wasn't working correctly. I was feeling uncomfortable, like my brain was a c.d. that was skipping. I snapped myself out of it for a few hours, and was able to enjoy myself, but as the night wore on, and we railed through the rest of the coke, the c.d. was skipping more, and more, and I came to a point where I was unable to comunicate. My words would come out. Yea.... I... Like... this one.. time... my friend..........Fuck, I can't talk. Something was very, very wrong with me. We went off on a walk, after the coke ran out, and the sun came up. This was nice, but not helping my mental state any. For once there was no comedown, no craving for more coke, even tho I had stashed some away for another day.
We walked through the park, and the woods, for several hours. The longer we walked, the worse I got. I was acting funcionally retarded. Could barely walk right, could not form funtinal sentances. I was a fucking mess, and it was obvious that my friends were very worried about me. I explained the situation as best I could, and told them I would be O.K. once I got some sleep. We went home, and layed in bed all day, and thats when hell kicked in for me. I felt completely deppresed, and numb. I don't think I could have made it without my girlfriend to hold me. I got some sleep, and when I woke up, I was more or less back to normal.
And that is why I will never touch uppers again. Iíve never seen anyone react the way I did, and can only reason that my brain chemestry isn't made for them. Mabey it has something to do with my history of deppresion.
Edit* This was written in January 06', documenting years of occasional upper abuse, and I'm beggining to reconsider my stance. I didn't do any uppers. And than at the end of April I told myself that I was taking a 1 year break from all body Drugs minus psychedelics, and alcohol. That worked for about 3 months.
What broke the abstenance was Cocaine. I have used it a handful of times since than, with very little of the negitive effects that I described. I think the real issues were almost entirely mental. Pavlovs dog reflexes. I would tell myself that every time I did uppers I would have to use them as fast as possible, and that when I was done I would feel terrible. Well the real problem was that I was letting the drug control my emotions, and not the other way around.
Another BIG part of it, is having copious amounts of beer to take the edge off of the upper. Especially during the comedown. Now Iím not saying that I have the negative effects beat. I'm saying that through moderation, Iíve been able to vastly improve the quality of my experiences thus far, and am very open to the possibility that they could turn sour once more.
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