Citation: Matt. "Addicted Before I Even Tried It: An Experience with Crack (exp56143)". Erowid.org. Aug 26, 2009. erowid.org/exp/56143
I am 26, and have been to rehab 4 times for poly-drug use in the past. I had only done coke about 3 times, and I was always on other things, so I failed to catch the buzz that I was supposed to get. I managed to stay clean for over 2 years, and relapsed in the fall of 2005.
My relapse seemed so mild. A half-quarter of pot would last me over 2 weeks with little or no effort. I started to believe that perhaps the raging pot head who I was when I was 20 had actually grown up. When the summer came I found myself thinking of coke. I've worked as an addiction counsellor (during my 2 years clean I got an education in addictions) and heard many stories about cocaine. I've always been curious to see what the hype is all about.
My first high came off a line. I did it in a house where I felt like such a light-weight. I felt really out of place. Every window was covered with a blanket, people were constantly coming in and out, chairs were used to barricade doors, the phone NEVER stopped ringing, and everyone was constantly peeking out the windows to see if cops were coming. I felt like I walked into a movie or something. It was exciting to me, believe it or not. While I sat doing some lines the others were smoking it. I was curious, but refrained. The guy doing the cooking didn't want me hitting it anyways, he had a conscience and didn't want me to hit the freebase. However, I kept hanging around over the course of a couple of weeks, and I eventually got to try it.
The first few 'toots' didn't really work. Was I doing something wrong? Who knows? I'll never forget the first time it worked though. I had bought a 10 piece chunk. It was probably bigger though, because we only estimated it instead of weighing it. I put it on a pipe with barillo pad inside. I remember vividly melting that big chunk into the barillo. They told me to flip it upside down, let all the air out of my lungs, and to suck sloooowly. I followed their directions perfectly. Once my lungs were filled I knew that I was going to be messed up. I held it in for over 10 seconds, and exhaled heaven. Instantly, everything changed. My hearing was all messed up...it was like being in a closed in tunnel that was half filled with water. My hearing was simply dampened. I love the 'ringer.' Now, I am addicted.
I crave it a lot. I am addicted to the whole ritual. I love cooking it in the spoon, adding the soda, watching it settle, scraping out the beautiful chunks, setting them on a paper or playing card, loading the pipe, melting it in (one of the best parts for me is the melting) turning it upside down, inhaling and hearing the fizzle that lets me know I'm about to go to heaven, and then the oh so wonderful exhale. Pure bliss. Snorting lines was child's play, a pale imitation compared to the bliss of the freebase. And, as good as the first toot is the second is even better.
But, you have to run out eventually. Then comes the desperation. Flip the barillo over, scrape out the pipe for residue. Then comes crawling on my hands, sifting through dirt on the floor hoping to find some more. Reaching under couches, searching for forgotten stashes, trying to get together money and find a dealer at 5 or 6 in the morning, while the thoughts creep in that it has to end for tonight. Then come the thoughts that I am pathetic and losing all that really matters in life, that I'd rather sift through chunks on the floor then go home to my girlfriend and lay next to her (she is totally against all forms of drug use, even pot). The whole time I said I wouldn't let it get out of control, that when things started to go haywire I'd walk away, but by the time things got haywire, by the time I lost control, it was too late. How in God's name can I stop before I lose control? The fact is, I couldn't stop until I lost control, and once I lost control I really couldn't stop.
Sound ludicrous? Believe me, I am an addiction counsellor, and I am as big a fiend as anyone I've ever treated. I feel like the ultimate hypocrite. I have not overcome this addiction. I still want more. It will slowly (or quickly) destroy me, and I want more. I've given up on my resolutions, they last until the next craving. My cravings are the ultimate resolution anyways. Now, everywhere I go I look for chunks. I even ask God to give me crack. I visit my mother, and see chunks on the floor and hope to God that she somehow has developed a crack addiction and that it's crack I'm seeing on the floor.
In conclusion, do you want to know how long it's been since I first smoked crack? Less than a month. I have reached this point in less than a month. Maybe that's a good thing. I'm not one of those who will go on with it for years, because I will die first. This bliss is turning to hell faster than I can smoke it.
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