First Taste

I was going through some old journals that I have kept throughout the years. My perspective have changed so much, but sometimes I find some really great jewels hidden in those old musings. Some of those old writings seem to be drowning in heroin and the mentality of a user, and some parts are so foreign to me now.
Here is one of the jewels I found. It is about the night I first tried heroin. Another entry on the blog that was later written about the same event is called "Birthday." I have probably written about this event numerous times. Each time, written in a different mind frame or different perspective...or under the influence of different chemicals. This particular piece takes place moments after I snorted the allusive brown powder. The bittersweet taste was just spreading through my entire body.
"The air around me looked a little fuzzy, like everything had a soft edge to it. Every one's face seemed to be in a soft portrait light that softens the face and vignettes the edges. I was more relaxed than before...kind of like, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, relief.
Relief from myself. Relief created out of an overall numbness. I started to feel very normal. I stopped obsessing about silly thoughts and just relaxed. Relaxed all the way down to my bones...all my anxieties magically disappeared. My mind seemed to slow down to normal speed once again. All I could feel was comfortably numb. For the first time, I felt pretty good in my own skin.
The night wore on, getting foggier and hazier. Of course, I did a little more heroin and continued on the Jameson. The lights above the bar seemed to twinkle; everything looked soft and inviting. I remember sitting out back behind The Abbey. Every face, soft and a little hazy. The air seemed thick for March, and there was a low lying fog surrounding me. The Christmas lights hung around the patio twinkled and glowed. Everyone seemed to be smiling or laughing. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of detachment.
And I liked being detached. Heroin numbs you from feeling. I felt insulated by this detachment. The world was mad around me, and I could care less. I felt too good to care about anything. I was, in a sense, painless."