To be perfectly honest, I’ve never written anything like this before. But I do have a story to tell.
It’s a rather long one, but I just need to get it off my chest.
I got into the spice at the end of 2013. I remember pan-handling one night while I was high on dope. I wasn’t homeless, I just needed money.
I met this homeless man, I’ll call him Todd. He told me you could get spice for 4 dollars a bottle. I’ve done spice in the past but for 4 dollars I had to try it out.
After that, my life got turned upside down. I ended up everyday going, begging for money. Getting 4 dollars, buying spice and bringing to my apartment and getting high.
I lost myself. I had lost my roommates and everyone who cared for me. I ended up moving back in with my father and step mom, but I still smoked everyday.
I ended going from the 4 Dollar bottle to the 10 dollar bottles, I would wake up, take the bus 2 hours, pan-handle and smoke with a bunch of homeless people. I would spend my entire day there. And then I would catch the last bus home, and repeat.
It got to the point where I wouldn’t even come home, I would stay out 3,4,5 days at a time just smoking spice, I’d sleep were was safe, In a park, Behind the 99 cent store. Hell I found you could fall asleep where the shopping carts were at Walmart.
After my body would give out from the drug and the constant fights I would get into, I would come home to my worried father only to recover for a day or two and repeat.
Thats only half of my hell. After a while, I got fed up with my smoke shop’s spice. So I found a new one about 3 miles up the road.
They sold me something called Mary Jane 35x and that was the most powerful stuff I have ever smoked.
I ended getting the highest I’d ever been, and I went back the next day after spending the evening with my girlfriend at the time. I got a Jar and went back to my spot with the homeless people.
A guy I had barely met took hits… and starting having a seizure. Fearing for my freedom, I flagged down a nearby Cholo looking guy and told him to call 911, I told him I was going to get help.
I ran to the bus stop and never went back. I felt so guilty. But I still smoked.
At this point, I nicked this shit THE DEVILS DRUG. It made me think and do shit I never would do sober. I’m a good person. But this shit made me do evil things.
The smoke shop was right next to a farmers market, where i ended up getting a job at the same store about 10 miles up the road. The problem was that the only bus that took me to work. Stopped right in front of my smoke shop. I couldn’t go to work, come home from work, or do anything without getting high.
I lost everything: friends, family, everything that was good in my life I gave up for that high. I ended up getting caught 3 times with the spice and my pipes by the cops. But as a white boy who knows the law. I always got off with a warning.
I was going to be evicted by my father. I had to leave by the 30th. On the 22nd, I smoked and my dad called the cops on me. I was too zombied out and i just didn’t care. My father was mad they wouldn’t take me to rehab, told the cops to take me to jail and handed them 6 months worth of pipes and spice bottles. The cops told me it would put me in jail for at least 4 months, but at the last moment my father took back his baggie of evidence and told me if He sees me high again. He’ll give them the bag.
I never smoked again. I moved out of sate with my uncle and got clean. But the memories of everything I did haunt me vividly.
My memory is really fucked up, and I get nightmares about the my experiences.
I’ve been sober for almost a year.
My advice… Don’t ever touch this shit. I am not the same person I was, and it changed me.
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