I walked as casually as I could toward nowhere. I had nowhere to go. I had put myself in the most impossible of situations, and I knew it. My GPS ankle monitor was sitting on my couch and I was heading west on Indiana ave. with no certain destination, I knew all I had to do was kill some time, my friend would be back from her mom’s and then we could go. The rinse and cottons I had done earlier had long since worn off and I was starting to sweat. Goosebumps rose on my face and arms, the gagging started, the sweat was pouring. And it was freezing outside, Christmas Eve, and I had just technically escaped. This just kept getting better. I was totally fucked and the only thing I could think about was that first shot I would be getting in about 4 hours. Damnit, 4 hours… Seconds passed like weeks as I made my way to certain hell, convinced that every passing car and police cruiser knew what I had just done. The paranoia was too heavy. I had to take alleys and find somewhere to hunker down. My only real option was my friend’s apartment, where I had just left. I knew the code to the key pad lock, and even though if they were looking for me, they would definitely come there, it was my only option. So on I pushed. I had completely sweated through my clothes and was sneezing and gagging about every 3 minutes, I was already going through hell and the shit hadn’t even really hit the fan yet. I had no idea what I was headed for. But I also didn’t care. I just needed a fix. The disease was in total control at this point and I had absolutely no choice. I was getting high today. No matter what. What seemed like a week in purgatory passed and I trudged my broken ass up her stairs and to her door. I entered the key pad combo and shut the door behind me, and leaned my back against the inside of the door, and just kind of slid down it, and crouched and stared at the floor. I felt like I should be so terrified and crying at the thought of what I had just done. But there was nothing. I was numb and gone to the addiction. I felt nothing but anxiety for the next one, and lementing for the last one. Heroin was my everything. It was my solution, not my problem. I used over everything and coped with nothing. I created utter chaos by using heroin, and then dealt with the consequences by using more. It was a horrible and nightmarish cycle, and it was in full swing. I was so fucked. And the night hadn’t even started yet. I picked myself up off the floor and collapsed onto the couch. The weight of all this was just too much. Relapse. Mom. Treatment. Withdrawal. Escape. Drug court. Chaos. Fear. Addiction. Fiending. More. Time. Terror. Fuck. Everything kind of consumed me and I fell into sort of a panic coma- and was awaken by the door opening. Three hours had passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye, thank God. Had I fallen asleep? Was it some kind of broken trance? I don’t know, but she was here, and she had money, and the dude had dope. Those were the things that mattered. It was time to go. Merry fucking Christmas….