Crack

Fuck crack. I've never met anyone who's had a good long term experience with crack. Mine sure as hell hasn't been. I know a fifty-four year old woman who's never lived on her own, who doesn't know the father of one of her daughters, and is physically and mentally a complete wreck, due to crack.

I'm in a bit of debt over crack. Thankfully, it's to the bank and not some guy with no sense of humor and a baseball bat.

It fucks with your head. You hate yourself as you spend more. It's awful.

It's so bad it's the only thing I've been able to successfully keep myself away from, and that was only after a few really bad times.

i bought crack by accident on new year's eve.

i'd been sent out with money to buy food - or, if my luck reared it's head once more, weed. i thought i was buying weed. turns out this dude and i weren't so much on the same wavelength, something i figured out as he was walking back towards me with something white in a bag. he knew i wanted to smoke it, so i knew it wasn't cocaine.

crack. shit. crack? really?

broke and hungry, i figured, what the hell. the crack high's pretty cool, actually; it's got the body energy of cocaine, the slight tweaky quality of speed, and the quiet serenity of weed.

unfortunately it doesn't last for shit. next thing you know it's gone, and you're starting to feel annoyed that it's taking so long to stuff more of these white crystals into your little pipe.

we smoked it all in one night. trying to fall asleep was hell. waking up was hell. if a friend hadn't come by with weed and food, we'd have been screwed. a good glittery feeling while it lasts, but nothing is worth that comedown. nothing.

happy new year's.