Citation: CocaineCorey. "The American Dream: An Experience with Cocaine (exp62372)". Erowid.org. Feb 4, 2009. erowid.org/exp/62372
||(powder / crystals)
This report is not the report of one particular experience but rather a summary of many successive experiments with cocaine and how it has changed my life.
For the longest time I had only a mild curiosity of cocaine and no desire to try it. I was an avid pot head who enjoyed an occasional trip and was morally opposed to participation in the cocaine culture and carried a negative prejudiced towards synthetic drugs, especially stimulants.
My vow to never try cocaine was broken the very first time I saw it and was offered it. It was a Friday afternoon in early spring during my junior year in high school and I was in my friends car with the usual crew of weed smokers who I smoked with before during and after school and one other who I soon found out was going to try cocaine for the first time. When the driver pulled out his sack, it was the very first time seeing cocaine in person and I was at once overcome with a strong sense of curiosity and temptation. When the driver asked if anyone else wanted some, my promise to never snort any was immediately replaced with a semi reluctant half conscious yes please.
For us two first timers, he broke out 4 small bumps, one for each nostril. After my friend, I did one of those and passed the cd cover they were on, leaving the other one, still indecisively. The first sensation I felt occurred when looking down at the 20 dollar bill I had used to snort it. I was fascinated by its image the way I would be looking at nature on a hallucinogen. I had spent the past 3 days at home sick with pnemonia and had started to notice returning symptoms during school, but upon snorting that tiny bump it was gone for good.
The high was nothing like the 10 minutes of euphoria followed by a hellish crash I expected. I felt it strongly for several hours and experienced no come down. After smoking weed we got dropped off and starting riding bikes. It was my first time riding my bike since its tune up, and that along with the incredible energy I experienced from the cocaine high made for the best bike ride of my life. During our bike rides I experienced no fatigued and flew up and down hills effortlessly. I felt great that whole night at my friends party which consisted of ridiculous amounts of weed smoking. I did not feel guilty or ashamed at all and my vow of never trying it was compromised and replaced with a vow to never spend money on it. I felt no desire to do it the next day and did it once more during senior year.
The night following my high school graduation was the night I went to hell, and went back every day for over half a year. That night I partied hard with my brother, cousin and my brothers college friends, it was my first night doing more than one line at a time and never experienced such a strong euphoria. We hopped from bar to bar, dropping much of my graduation money on expensive shots with no regret. It was also my first night spending money on coke, though it was only 20 dollars, it was the first 20 of several thousand that I would soon spend, most of the countless lines I snorted came from the sacks of others, b/c every one had coke.
The experience changed me. The days of feeling euphoric from weed smoking were long over, I found my new muse. The next time I purchased some was 2 grams for a 3 day musical festival in Tennessee, and when I had low tolerance that was more than enough, but soon enough my tolerance sky rocketed. I was actively selling weed during the summer, and I would spend my profits on cocaine and I turned a lot of my friends on to it and met a lot of kids my age and older who fucked around with blow. On a typical summer weekday I would smoke 4 blunts a day, blow a gram to the face, and manage to get wasted. On the weekends my excesses were beyond rational estimation.
Because the cocaine high was so much superior to the marijuana high, my desire to smoke diminished and less weed smoked meant more weed sold which of course meant more grams and 8 balls purchased. As a coke head I was much more social than I was as a pothead and enjoyed parties much more, and would pull all nighters every night, sleeping wherever I passed out. Marijuana had severely effected my game with the ladies and lowered my sexual desires all throughout high school, but now I instinctively chased pussy and got A LOT of ass. My circle of friends and number of fuck buddies increased alongside with my habit but to me these were rewards for my behavior, not consequences.
The notorious comedowns which follow the cocaine high seemed nonexistent to me, as my friends would often complain of them I would still be in the middle of my euphoria. Every so often, about monthly, I would experience an awful comedown, usually after a coke party. I would get my ass kicked, realizing that nothing could help my comedown, sometimes vowing to never do coke again. A few days later I would be back to my old ways.
When summer was winding down I stopped selling weed, and most of my coke buddies cut back significantly in their usage. I was still addicted and managed to feed my addiction without much struggle, and if I failed to raise the necessary funds I would be chilling with people who would be holding. I had hundreds of dollars saved in the bank, but that disappeared quickly. I was blowing rails [excessively large lines] the way I used to blow lines and was blowing lines the way I used to blow bumps. I was able to clear over a gram in one shot.
I was taking the year off from school, differed from college for a year of working odd jobs, which I;'d use to fund my partying. B/c my friends were either busy w/ high school or college, I made new friends with the local drug lord and all his roommates. He had the best coke and headies in town, and ample connects for anything else, and he thought I was the funniest kid so I pretty much lived there for half a year, making lots of good friends, going on long drug binges and witnessing the life of a lucrative coke dealer first hand.
After a half a year of the American Dream, I went to college b/c my parents had enough of my ways. My school is up in the woods in Vermont, where coke is few and far between, half as good and twice as expensive as it was in the city. Without my muse, nothing thrills me anymore.
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