‘Let me try it,’ I said. A friend was smoking it in the bathroom of a Berlin club. My cares and denials were too heavy. My friend looked at me, and I will never forget those eyes. They were begging. ‘You don’t want this. You really don’t. This is not what you need.’
I am the sheep, and the smack is the shepherd. I’ve been following the shepherd for fifteen years…. I made a choice, and the consequence of that choice was relinquishing control.
It is a miracle potion, a magical compound that makes the world disappear. Troubles evaporate. Failures are forever hidden.
It was heaven. A false paradise. I was riding the wave of peace that I had always desired. I inhaled, and I laughed. I laughed at the absurdity of the situation I was in. I was smoking heroin in the toilet of a Berlin club, and it was the best feeling I have ever had. It coursed through my body, replacing every toxin with a new one.
There is a romanticisation of heroin, a mythology. The tale omits the truth. They don’t tell you about the exit, only the entrance.
The world will come back with a vengeance. This miracle compound was not efficacious in every case. I was, and to a degree, still am currently in a state of acute denial. I can handle this.
This is costing me my world, but more, it’s costing me my very existence. Weight is falling off me. I am becoming a ghost. My skin feels waxy. I am becoming a finished candle. My eyes are heavy. I am blind to the truth.
There is little more to do than accept that I need help.
