Craving

Submitted by Abnormal Anonymous

“Once you start smoking crack, your entire view of the world changes. Suddenly the only thing that really matters is getting some more dope. Now, as I sit here typing this out, I find it hard to not start dreaming about dope. I know, however, that starting to dream about it only makes the longing more intense.

Sometimes, however, I do indulge (in remembering, not actually smoking!). I dive back into the depths of memory, reminiscing, bringing those memories back to the front of my conscious. I indulge in the memory of it all

I close my eyes, slowly breath in, then completely out, totally emptying in my lungs. Then, another long, slow, breath in, filling me, consuming me. I imagine the white, hot smoke snaking its way from my pipe, down my throat, freezing everything it touches.

It fills my lungs, and I feel the cocaine being absorbed in my alveoli, going from air through the thin lining of my lungs, into my blood, and then - BA BUMP - with one heartbeat, it rushes to my brain.

Then

Suddenly,
Abruptly
Time.stops.
Just.for.a.momen
. . . . . . – there is absolutely nothing at all. All thought stops, the entire world is ten thousand miles away, and all that is left is a crystal clear, incredibly sharp, bright black light that burns away all feelings except this sense of clarity, joy, euphoria. Nothing can reach me in this place, nothing matters at all.

I imagine breathing out, and out pours the puffy white smoke that blocks out all the world. I am lost in that cloud, my soul floats up, disperses throughout the room, and everything is happiness and joy, of a sort.

As that cloud starts to clear and float away, the euphoria starts to fade away. The joy is replaced by contentment. Things are okay. Then things become just alright, nothing to worry about. Then things are okay, but could be better.

The first fully formed thought that comes to me at this point is the thought of the next hoot, the next hit. Reload the pipe, lets do it again. And then again, and again, and again. Again.

Again.

Again.
Again.
Again. Again.
Again.Again.Again.
AGAINAGAINAGAINAGAIN
AGAGINEAGAAGAAGAINAAAAAAAGAAGAGAGAGAGAINE

As long as there is dope to smoke, as long as there is rock, everything in the world is just perfect.

Crystal clear and burnt into my brain forever the feeling of smoking dope is.

Coming down, crashing, is a memory that is detached from the memory of smoking. It is something seperate in the crackheads mind. Thinking about crashing does not come to mind when I start wanting to do dope. Only good memories come calling.

If I do the work, the mental work of flushing out the memories of crashing, withdrawal, craving, I can intellectually connect these memories to the thought of smoking. I know, in my mind, just how horribly frantic running out of dope is. I can remember how terrible, how cold, empty, desperate, and like dying I feel like when all my dope is just a memory of smoke, but I have to make myself remember that, otherwise I will lie to myself, lies I want to believe, that there is no downside to dope. Never mind the long term problems

This is the tricky part of recovery, to not let the memory of getting high occlude the memory of how terrible the cycle of addiction is.