WOUNDED AND LIMPING

If anyone knows anything about drugs and addiction they know that it is progressive. What once worked to cover your pain, quickly becomes not enough. Most people can't afford to keep this up and end up in a life of crime. Losing all of their wordly belongings. Selling their bodies to keep up with the pace. Homeless and mentally ill. This should have happened to me. In all reality looking back at the things I did and the company I kept I should not be here today. I was spared. There was a plan set for my life and no amount of me trying to thwart that plan was going to work. Oh, and I tried.

This is coming to an end. Things get worse before they get better, right? Well they did here. Now that the group was so small I started introducing some of my hard hitting friends from Austin to them. They were established drug addicts. Been at it for years. Could see the freshness on the faces of these kids. Basically, I was bringing the lamb to slaughter. Could not have foreseen the things to come. One big thing was crack. I was smoking it now and then, with this guy who was a child star. Played in the Lord of the Flies as the leader of the bad tribe. Did a few ads after that and went into drugs. He was the lead singer for a band that I followed named Cornpone. This guy was something else. Greatly addicted and hard hitting when it came to getting what he wanted. Once he heard about the money he was right there with me. Leaching on.

In the meantime the guy with the money had become scarily skinny and would only stay in bed with his black satin boxers on. Ordering people around. Trying to be dominate. Trying to maintain control. People would bring him food and drugs and drink and smokes. He became very rude and controlling. Would have complete control of the music and the drugs. Lining people up for the line of coke. It was bazaar and it didn't affect me because I was the one getting him the drugs. So, of course I had my cut before he ever saw it. I played along with his weird ways for as long as he felt it necessary to do so. I named him Elvis. He didn't like that I called him that but that is who he was. He bought all of his friends and used his money as power over them. It worked, people did what he said. A lot of them never left the room we stayed in. I got to leave to get the dope. Able to move freely about. Go to 6th street and visit friends. Some of them never left and if they crossed him they would be booted from the group.

On one of these many nights of coke and acid and too many people in the room. He caught me and my buddy in the closet smoking crack. This was not Elvis approved and he went into a fit. All he ever wanted was to be accepted and if that meant we had to make him feel like this too was a good thing and he should try it. Making him feel as if he was the center of attention then he would calm down. He did, it worked, he tried it. Wow! from that minute on every day all day we smoked crack. I was getting him around 3 to 5 grand a day worth of crack. Putting myself in great danger.

Me, myself and I would drive to the slummiest part of town and go into crack houses to purchase crack for them. This was not territory I was familiar with. A crack house is a lot like what you see on T.V. No furniture, very dark. People sitting around on the floors smoking the little bit of rock they just bought or bartered for. It was eery and I was always scared when going in. Crack is a whole other world. People kill for crack, for a hit of crack. It makes you into a monster for the most part. Day after Day I went in there. They knew me and the crackheads knew, that when I came in, to get up and leave. Wait outside. I was not buying a 20 piece not a couple hundred worth. I was there and I was buying thousands at a time. Everyday. Day after Day. Night after night. I felt like I was getting a target on my back. I could be jumped when I came out. One bullet is all it would take and I knew it and was taking the chance.

One day when I arrived back at the motel. Things were out of sorts. They were outside of the room waiting on me. I found out that the police had been there and Elvis had been taken to jail. Basically he had skipped bond on that charge in Brenham and they came to get him. Didn't go into the room. No one else was arrested. We were in a pickle. A few days before this we had gone to the bank with Elvis where he had sold some of his Coca-Cola stocks and we walked out with 65 grand in cash. By this time also his family was trying desperately to cut him off. So this was it. We had the money and his Mercedes.

Time for a meeting. I sent everyone packing but 3 of us and came up with and idea that this money was too much money for just one of us to carry. We needed to split it up in case one of us got arrested. The other 2 guys agreed and we split it. We each ended up with about 15 grand each in our pockets. Oh, what I would do with that money today. How stupid I was.

It took about 3 weeks for all of us to go through all the money. The events that took place during this time are a blur to me. We were super paranoid. Switching hotel rooms sometimes 2 and 3 times a day. Sleep deprived. I don't remember sleeping. Twice I remember sleeping because I was so scared of being robbed of this money, that it was taking that chance when you closed your eyes. Everyone was skeptical of the other. We parted soon after one of my friends (the child star) planned a robbery. Had this drug addict come to our room and try to get money from us. I wouldn't know this until later, when I found the money he said the guy stole, in his possession. I felt betrayed. This was my buddy. He put our lives in danger. We could have been killed over that.

One other thing I did during this time because all of my friends I had once had could no longer stand to be around me. I was alone. Me and my money. I went one day to buy crack from this house and out comes this tall, skinny, blond. Asked me for a ride. Said she was stranded there the night before. So I took her with me. I had a new best friend. Her name was Angel. I am not kidding and I do believe she was a hooker. I took her shopping and she ended up staying with us for a while in the room. She was an intravenous drug user and it was such an ugly sight. Using the same needle over and over again. I felt dirty. I never used needles in all the days of my drug use ever, but knew a lot of people that did. I am grateful I never did.

Coming to an end all of it became very clear what was to happen. I was in trouble. I had not been to a probation meeting since the first one. My intention was to go home talk to my parents, who have had no idea where I have been during this time ,and get it together. I had seen enough, I had done enough, I was enormously alone and sad. I mean come on I had resorted to having hookers for friends. I had no friends. The one I thought I had tried to rob me and the others were just plain tired of my crap. I was a wounded animal and went limping home. This should have been it, right? No, not so much. I will carry on in my next post. I need to think. I do feel better getting through that time though I feel like I need a shower.