Sometimes I can't help but think about the first time I shot up (or was shot up, whatever). A cool October evening, 9pm psych ward smoke break. The sky was clear, the air was crisp. We walked to our usual spot around the corner by some stairs and there he was. Joel's friend & my acquaintance was supposed to bring me a peach (60mg morphine) to eat but things didn't work out for whatever reason and he showed up with a loaded rig. Joel looked at me wondering what I was going to do. I said, 'ok. I'll do it, just tell me what to expect.' The three of them explained the rush and how I should probably sit down. I didn't though cause we needed light. I exposed the crook of my right arm and they tied me off, asked me to pump my fist a few times and then - there it was. H o l y. F u c k. He emptied half of the syringe into my veins and gave Joel the other half (gross I know, but we only had the 1). I thanked him and went to sit down, I put my head back onto the railing of the gazebo dedicated as a legal smoking area outside of the emergency entrance & experienced my first nod. I had never felt anything like this before. Why had I looked down upon all my friends when oxys were running rampant through the streets? Why did I look down on downers? I always said, 'when I wanna get high I wanna get HIGH.' I was always about the uppers until I almost had a heart attack from some coke one night and ended up looking like some idiot at emerge. But now, omg, now I was all about the downers. Time was running out and we had to get back upstairs so we didn't lose the privilege to go back out the next day. Cause Lord knows, I wanted some more of that. We showed our hospital bracelets to the security guard and he let us through to the main part of the hospital. Joel warned me about my pupils and to try not to seem too fucked up when we went back. Avoid eye contact, etc. We exchanged a look & some giggles as we walked by the washroom we always use to fuck in. Like always, we kissed in the elevator until the door started to open. Once we handed in our cigarettes and lighters we went to 'the bench', our private hang out. As private as you can get on a psych ward anyways. It was out of view of the nursing station and the cameras and that's all we cared about. I just wanted to cuddle. I rubbed Joel's thigh and told him how much I wished we weren't there, so we could really be together. He agreed. I wanted to lay with him, my head on his chest. We spent our last 2 hours of the night there talking and touching each other. Sneaking kisses whenever we could. I put my head on his shoulder and he told me the things he always told me. We'd get up and walk around a bit to not seem so suspicious. I went to bed in a way I never had before, euphoria and analgesia taking over my body. I was completely relaxed, I was happy for the first time in a long time. Joel was better than any doctor I'd ever met. He knew me, he knew what I needed and what I longed for. We'd only known each other for a very short time and I knew I should stay away. I just couldn't. He was magnetic. I thought about how I wanted to lay with him and enjoy the high, the high he had given me. The high that would change my life forever.
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