QuasiNaziScum

I chose not to choose life. I chose som
2004-03-08 18:02:12 (UTC)

Overdoses used to scare me. Now that shit just pisses me off...

So Simon got paid on Friday and we spend all fucking day
copping dope. Finally, after much trouble, we got a
shitload of really really good stuff, and went home with
Mildred to get off. Before I know what the fuck is going
on, when Im just kicking off my shoes and vest, Simon
stands up, shakes, and hits the floor. I drag him into our
bedroom and throw him on the bed, as we had company. When
I get back, the nigger is grey and not breathing, no pulse,
the whole works. I get mad, cause Im still sick, but I try
as usual to revive him... Mildred comes in, freaks out,
wants to call 911, then tells me to shoot him up with salt
water. Ever shot up a dead person? Its not fun, the blood
barely flows, its hard to tap a vein. While he was
deciding whether or not to return to the world of the
living, I took off his socks and emptied his pockets
looking for his dope, cause fuck selfish bitches who don't
wait to shoot up together. After that and some ice cubes
down his pants, he slowly came to. I didn't know how much
he shot up to OD, but I did my standard minimum of half a
bag right then... BLAU. Another dead nigger. I fell and
hit my head on the hardwood floor. I came to in the
shower, being stuck with fucking needles while soaked in
cold-ass water. Yay, you saved my life. Fuckin a, it's
difficult to change clothes when you're barely alive. Now
Mildred thinks she's a hero for saving both of us, and
we're never talking to that freaky bitch again. Moral of
story: I've OD'd before, will probably do it again, and I
don't owe shit to people who happened to bring me back.
They only did it cause they were scared and cause it is a
decent thing to do, after all. Bringing back a dead
junkie, what do you want, a fuckin Nobel Peace Prize?
Shiiit. I still can't believe the purity of that fucking
dope! Half a bag... Jesus, I wonder what would happen if I
shot up half a bundle like I used to...

Some black dude was hitting on me at the bus terminal while
we were all high out of our minds... Then this spanish
dude came over and told the nigger to get lost, and asked
if I wanted a hotel room for the night cause I looked too
fucked up to be going anywhere... Haha, he invited Simon
along too, the sick dirty old bastard. He was nice tho,
asked if I needed a taxi home or something, but we just
wanted to go to South Beach and look for Ira... I guess
some people are just concerned about some passed out kids
at the bus stop. Maybe I just shouldn't wear my pink fur
coat anymore tho. I don't know... We got another hookup
with a Mexican dude who accidentally dropped an 8-ball on
tha bus and I noticed... We started talking and he thought
we were the most hardcore punx ever, and it just so happens
he sells every drug under the sun a few blocks away from
our house... So yay!!!!! But I have to go pick up Simon
from work and get some cigarettes. Need... smoke...
now...




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