Life is a school.

Conversations

* TW the following paragraph could be triggering to some people that struggle with drug abuse and addiction*

The week passed fast and it was Friday night. I was wearing some blue ripped jeans and a typical black college sweater that scrim gave me. I saw him for the first time again in like ever. He has been working hard and just came out of his room to grab food, say happy birthday and block the bathroom. I was sitting on my couch watching some tv while smoking a cig. "Yo bitch, what did I tell you about smoking inside?" He snitches from the side and grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth and put it in his own. I raise an eyebrow and look at him: "I have no fuckin' clue what'cha talkin' about. You smoke in here all the time!"
He grins with his bright smile: "yeah because I'm the motherfuckin' man in the house and financing yo bitch ass on the couch."
Ouch... that kind of hit me. But still that's what I missed, fooling around with him. You could never take him serious, he is just so... funny. And when you can handle his temper, he really is a good mate. "You nervous?" He asks me and points to my fingers tapping on my knee like crazy. "Kinda yeah. You have anything against that?" Scrim changed his sight in my direction: "you mean prescriptions or what?" I can feel his pain in that moment. The last thing he would wish me is an addiction but he knows that we both don't  know how to deal with anxiety. He mumbled more to himself than answer my question: "I mean yeah sure, I have anything you could imagine from Xan's to h. I got it. But you sure you wanna go down some of those paths?" He seemed unsatisfied with his reply and you could feel the entire mood drop. I just shake my head in reply and pull out another cig. As a consequence I received another smirk from Scrim. "Can I ask you something?"I inquired to kind of change the conversation in a new direction. "Sure." He responded and stole himself a cig out of my package.
I thought about my question wisely to not say something wrong: "how... what does being high on heroin feel like?"
The young slim musician next to me smirks: "I knew you'd ask that... But it's hard to explain. It's a long term that you need to describe... because it's not like you shoot dope once and then you're good. Nah. You can't, even though you think about doing h once, you'll come back to it. Definitely. I was first snoring it, then chasing the dragon and after short time I started shooting. I never shot myself. I just can't. I had friends done it to me, dealers, even Ruby helped me out from time to time... But what I'm tryna say is, at first you feel like a god. It's like all the pain is suddenly gone. You become so smooth talking, entertaining, calm and just confident about yourself. And you're surrounded by a huge warm hug. Like a person you love hugs you in a warm bathtub of love and everything around you becomes irrelevant. You're so high but at the same time you lay down on the floor, staring at the ceiling and imagine how you can do everything at that moment. You feel like you're in space. Gravity and sound aren't existent anymore. You're just on the floor, because your body is so heavy that you can't stand anymore. And you spend month's and month's only thinking about that one love you have. That one thing you want. That drug that feels like you multiplied an orgasm a trillion times. And nothing is boring with heroin. You spend your day staring at a wall being half awake, half asleep doing nothing. But you think you're the greatest person of all time. Like you're this magical creature called god. Till it hits you. Being sober becomes hell. Being sober feels like the worst sickness you'll ever experience. It's like... you're cold deep down to your bones but at the same time you sweat like crazy. You start wearing a jacket but sweat even more. It's like you're wearing a winter jacket in a typical Florida summer and at the same time you're somewhere in Alaska on a lake of ice. Parts of your body, that you didn't even knew existed hurt like hell. It's like bugs crawl under skin and you want to cut them out of there with a switch blade. And you had only one way out of that awful state. Getting money to shoot some dope. You spend your whole day in incredible pain, throwing up all the time, sneezing like crazy and it hurts, it hurts so bad. You're depressed, plaguing suicide thoughts, you're anxious and every touch, any touch to be honest. It burns, it hurts to the depth of your bones. Every single cell in your body is screaming to get that fucking drug and shoot it up your vein. Even though you'll just fix it very temporarily but you want to feel like a normal person again. You can't stand those thoughts, the urge to constantly kill yourself, the incredible pain. So you do everything in your power to finally score. Everyday. You're not doing that to feel somewhat incredible again. Nah you just want the pain and all that shit to go away again." He breathes deep and I just have the urge to hold him in my arms and give him a big hug. I can't keep still and wrap my arms around him: "I'm so sorry for that... all that..." I almost cry. Scrim simple shrugges: "you don't need to. You never offered me any dope so. It's not your fault. It's my own fault, if it's anyone's fault at all."
He is so wise even though he has been through all of that: "do... do you still do heroin? Are you still an addict?"
Scrim acknowledged my choice of words: "yeah... still. Or I dunno prolly forever. I'll die as an addict one day."
He is so sure about him and his future, is he high right now? Have I ever seen him sober?: "how many shots do... do you need in a day?"
- "five."

*I hoped you likes this chapter I made it a little bit more based on conversations!*