Citation: JunkyMax. "Wish I Still Hated It: An Experience with Heroin & Oxycodone (exp90308)". Erowid.org. Dec 16, 2013. erowid.org/exp/90308
The first time I ever tried any opiate, I hated it. It came in the form of two 5mg generic hydrocodone pills (vicodin). My friend and I had each purchased 2 of these pills on our lunch break during my senior year of high school from a fellow student/friend. My friend Brian at the time had more experience with opiates than I, and suggested we take both the pills at the same time. We did, and continued on to our normal lunchtime activity of smoking a blunt. When we returned to school I was still not feeling any effects. My next class was gym, and I remember the first waves of the drug hitting me while trying to actively not participate in the class, as was my usual behavior. (I hate gym/sports/competition/jocks etc.) I felt pretty good, but nothing spectacular. Just your basic light-headedness and feeling groggy.
During my next class however, it turned bad. I remember an intense feeling of having to vomit, and feeling like I was going to pass out. Needless to say I wasn't feeling too hot. I managed to pull myself together, and made it through the rest of the day and to my part time job, where brian had also worked with me. Brian seemed to be totally fine and enjoying himself, but I couldn't shake feeling like shit. Now I'd like to take this time to say that I was in no way a stranger to drugs. By this point in my life (17 yrs old) I was already a habitual marijuana smoker and had been smoking everyday since I was 14. I had also many experiences with Ecstacy, LSD, Psyilocybin mushrooms, ketamine, and even had a small cocaine experience under my belt. I absolutely loved psychedelics and was an avid user until a very bad mushroom trip changed my perspective, but that's another tale in itself. So anyhow, you could assume I could handle my drugs, but these pills were kicking my ass. I proceeded to go to work, and violently vomit all over my work bathroom. We're talkin projectile here. Ahhhh! I immediately felt better, but decided to put this experience into the 'never again' file.
Now fast forward about 4 years. My mother, who had just been diagnosed with lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking, was being prescribed amongst other things, whole bottles of 5mg oxycodone pills. Literally, the pharmacy just gave her the whole bottle and put her prescription label on the original oxycodone bottle that they have at the pharmacy. Now at this time, I had heard many stories of people using 'oxys' and how it was basically pharmaceutical heroin. So having these things at my disposal, and always down for a new experience,I began stealing them from her. Although that's not entirely true bc she knew I was takin them. Anyway I fell in love. I began taking them all the time. I can still remember my first time nodding out on them and absolutlely loving the feeling. Sleep of the angels indeed.
Well needless to say, after a year and a half my mother lost her battle and passed away on April 19, 2007, leaving a 22 year old boy without his mother and forever ruining my 4/20 holidays. (just like my mom to mess things up for me, hahah) So of course I fell into a pretty deep depression, which was made even worse by the fact that now I was now cut off from my beloved percocets. It took me a couple of months, but I finally found another connect through my weed dealer who was getting 10mg percs from his friend who had a script. The good times where back, and I began self medicating my depression with my beloved pills. And as anyone can tell you, it didn't last. I started needing more and more just to reach the same feeling. Plus my connect for them wasn't the most solid, so there where many 'dry' times when nothing could be found. I don't know how, but I managed to not become physically addicted, but man did I crave those fuckers. So again after constantly keeping my eyes and ears opened for a new connect, a friend of mine told me that his brother, which who I used to be best friends with through out my whole childhood, was dealing 30mg roxys, which are instant release oxycodones. I immediately called him, and that became the beginning of the end.
Now this friend, we'll call him C, was my best friend since we were 3 yrs old. But life happens and we eventually drifted apart, but never over anything negative, just different interests. That's life. People come and go. But now, we started to reestablish our friendship, although this time it was unfortunately for the wrong reasons. I began calling C every day and would buy my daily dose. And just like before, it grew and grew. 30 mg became 60mgs, 60 became 90, 90 became 120, and I couldn't afford it. I was maxing out my credit cards and ruining my once good credit. And now I was sniffing them, and that's when the addiction began. I remember the first time I tried kicking it, knowing that it would suck, but thinking I could handle it. Boy was I wrong. After not even 24 hrs I was at the atm and heading over to C's house. I was fucked. But I couldn't afford it anymore, and began inquiring how C got his supply of these horrible devil pills. He told me that he had a doctor who was basically a drug dealer, and for $600, would give you a script for 90 30mg roxys. Now you may say, wow, $600 is a lot of money. It is, but when u turn around and sell them for $20 a pill, that's $1,800. More than enough to pay for your next script, and to have enough for yourself. And C was quite the user, using probably double what I was taking. So I didn't have $600, but I would throw down with him every month and he would throw me a bunch of pills. This went on for a while, and then eventually I started getting my own script. These where good times. But they couldn't last.
The doctor got busted, and we were fucked. C began buying pills off of people he knew that had scipts just to keep himself from being sick. He would sell me some of course, but at a much inflated price since he was now paying street prices for them. Things continued on like this, and we did plenty of desperate things in desperate times. One of the scariest moments I can remember was a time C and I forged a script for roxys from a script pad that a friend of his stole. Amazingly it worked, but I'll never forget almost shitting my pants waiting at the pharmacy counter, expecting the cops to rush in at any second. Facing a felony drug charge is no fuckin joke. It worked, but it was too much for me and I never did it again. As a matter of fact, C's friend who stole the pad eventually did get caught by going to the same drugstore twice within the same month. He was going to law school and was a lacrosse coach at a local community college. Needless to say he lost it all and can never be a lawyer or teacher again.
I don't know how, but we managed to get by. Day by day, pill by pill. It wasn't easy but we did it. Then one day, I went to meet C to grab some pills, and he was noticeably fucked up. Like way more than I've ever seen him. His eyes where hardly open, and he was slurring so bad and kept dropping his phone/cigarette. I asked if he was ok, and how much he took. He told me not to tell anyone, but he was on heroin that a friend of his picked up for him. I immediately wanted in. Now I had two previous heroin experiences that I acquired from some junky scumbag that I met through a friend. Obviously he ripped me off, and the shit he gave was less than memorable. But C looked so fucked up and was telling me how much cheaper it was that I was sold.
I'll never forget the first time. It was the day before halloween, and C, I and a bunch of mutual friends went out to a local bar to celebrate C's brothers birthday. I picked C up before going,and he handed me a little white wax bag with no stamp on it. I emptied it out on a CD case, and snorted the whole bag. By the time we got to the bar I was in heaven. I remember hugging my girlfriend an literally nodding out in her arms. I then went outside for a cigarette and I can still remember feeling myself melt into the bench I was on. I was in love. So C and I began scoring H when we coud get it until C finally acquired his own connect. That's when my life really went to the shitter.
We began scoring H everyday, and just like before it grew and grew. One bag became 2, became 3, became 4, became 5, and I was right back to where I was, paying almost 80 bucks for one high. Since C was always a step ahead of me, he was already shooting the shit. No just like everyone else, I was terrified of needles, and swore I'd never do it. But when u can't afford what u want, but u still want it, u comprimise yourself. So one day I let C shoot me up. I can still remember him trying to find a vein and missing a couple of times. (I have both my arms sleeved with tattoos, so my veins are hard to see, but it's great for hiding my tracks.) But he finally got it in and I must say it wasn't that great. I actually recall getting a rather nasty headache and not feeling as fucked up as I thought. So for a while I went back to sniffing, thinking shooting was stupid and that people where exaggerating it way too much. Then one day I decided to try it again. This time I did it myself. I had a really hard time getting it in the vein, but I finally did and man, was I wrong. It was amazing. I always heard about the 'rush', but always thought I got one from sniffing. Boy was I wrong. I always feel it lightly right behind my face, and then Woosh! A wave of extreme euphoria and apathy wash over me. I hate to admit it, but it really is the best.
Now here I am, 2 years later, 26, and a full blown junky. I do have a job and my own place so I am somewhat functional, but all my money goes to dope. I just barely make it by with my bills each month, and I'm still paying off over $13,000 in credit card debt. But I can't stop. I've tried detoxing with suboxone a number of times, which defiantly works, but as soon as I'm off of them, I go right back on the dope. The cravings are unbearable. And honestly, as much as it sucks, I like a dope-filled life rather than a clean life. I can't take the boredom.
It's funny because now C who was always way worse than me, shooting a whole bundle (10 bags) at a time, is now almost 6 months clean and loving it. His parents forced him into rehab after walking in on him shooting up. I've talked to him recently and he tells me he's never felt better and hes doing great. I definitely believe him, but I just don't feel the same. Its sad, but it's true. And honestly, I take back what I said before about not being able to stop. That's not true, because I have stopped. I've had periods of being clean for months when I was doin the suboxone. The reason I'm not clean is because I don't want to be. And the reason C is clean is because he wants to be. He told me how he was just sick of living that way and he simply had enough. I don't know. Maybe because its really the one thing that brings me pure happiness, so I'm afraid to let it go, but I know I'll never be clean until I want it. Really want it. And right now, that's just not the way it is. Sometimes, I wish I still hated it.
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