I started doing heroin around the same time as graffiti.
The guys in the gang did it too. We were a heroin addict gang. We shared needles. No thought about the chances of getting some disease. We didn't care. We only wanted to get high.
The guys started having larger parties with more people. As much from the West Side as the East. People from out of town even came at times. How they heard about it, I've never figured out. The girls were all skinny and they hardly took drugs. Maybe they wanted to remember what they had been doing that night.
I stole and I cheated and I lied and I did everything to save my own hide. That was the rule. Or else be eaten.
One day, one of the guys scared me.
I couldn't breathe for at least a minute. And of course they only laughed at me. If I had been in their shoes, I would have been laughing at me too. That's just the way it went.
Afterwards I was careful about being scared.
But I kept the drugs and violence. I didn't want the sex and fright.
I took a needle home. I wasn't 17 yet, that was about seven months way. I took heroin home. My parents still didn't know anything about my after-school activites. At least, I don't think they did. But if they did, they never said anything about it to me.
Sitting on my bed I readied my needle. And then I readied my vein.
Then, I injected. And I did it again. And again. Three times I pierced myself with the needle. Three little spots of blood on my arm. Three full shots of heroin. What had I done?
The guys in the gang did it too. We were a heroin addict gang. We shared needles. No thought about the chances of getting some disease. We didn't care. We only wanted to get high.
The guys started having larger parties with more people. As much from the West Side as the East. People from out of town even came at times. How they heard about it, I've never figured out. The girls were all skinny and they hardly took drugs. Maybe they wanted to remember what they had been doing that night.
I stole and I cheated and I lied and I did everything to save my own hide. That was the rule. Or else be eaten.
One day, one of the guys scared me.
I couldn't breathe for at least a minute. And of course they only laughed at me. If I had been in their shoes, I would have been laughing at me too. That's just the way it went.
Afterwards I was careful about being scared.
But I kept the drugs and violence. I didn't want the sex and fright.
I took a needle home. I wasn't 17 yet, that was about seven months way. I took heroin home. My parents still didn't know anything about my after-school activites. At least, I don't think they did. But if they did, they never said anything about it to me.
Sitting on my bed I readied my needle. And then I readied my vein.
Then, I injected. And I did it again. And again. Three times I pierced myself with the needle. Three little spots of blood on my arm. Three full shots of heroin. What had I done?
