Hey whasssup?
I wanna tell you about my day today...just so you understand a bit more about me and my brilliantly dysfunctional mind.
So the plan today with my husband (whom I work and do drugs with) was to wake up around 8:30am, get dressed real quick and go to one of the houses to to get a “ten-ten” meaning a 10 of heroin and a 10 of coke to snort and start working from a cafe’ nearby. Then we were to go to the gym around 5 and then keep on working let’s say until 8pm. A pretty regular Monday right?
Well none of that happened. Oh! So you know: I live in Barcelona and here you basically go to what they call “narcopisos” that is: squatted apartments where Pakistani, Romanians or Dominicans sell heroin and coke (both powder and crack version) and that also serve as shooting galleries and places to smoke. They’re located in the center, unfortunately not that far from my house.
That said, we woke up at 10 and by the time we had breakfast and checked our emails it was already noon, so we dressed quickly and bounced. And here the nonsense begins...
We tried the closest house and nobody opened. We went to another one and nobody opened. We crossed the entire neighborhood to go to another house and they told us to come back in the afternoon. Now, a normal person would just get over it and go on with their day. But for an addict, once you set your mind on doing drugs, it’s more difficult than you think to just give up. It actually becomes obsessive. You simply can’t go home empty handed. So we went to another house (by now it’s like 2pm and we still hadn’t worked shit) and they had only crack and so we fucking smoked crack even if I was not into it.
And then we did what junkies do: look around for other junkies and then follow them to see where they go get their gear. And so it went. We did our lines in the shooting gallery of this new house and I met probably one of the most beautiful souls ever. You know those rare encounters with enlightened people? That was one of those. She figured us out so accurately I couldn’t believe it, she told us such beautiful things and gave us a gift that symbolized our love. Sometimes in the nastiest place you can find the purest beauty.
Finally (around 4pm) we go to have lunch in a nice French cafe’ and we start working. Until then we were talking about work but all we actually did was getting high... At some point the wifi got screwed up and we had to go somewhere else to work. And hey! you know, this forced break got us thinking that in the end we couldn’t do our do our ten-ten properly. So we went back to the hood and not only we got our coke but, due to some fortunate (or not) circumstances, we found another house full of Pakistanis that had a good product and super well served.
Now we are finally satisfied and our work can have all of our attention! It’s 6pm and by now we would have actually finished if we hadn’t given our 100% to our quest to get “just a little good high to work a bit more.”
Now it’s late at night, work is done but I’m fucking sad. It’s great to work on coke and heroin combined but this is precisely the problem. I wish I didn’t know how great it was. The remorse and guilt for this absurd day that I excellently orchestrated are eating me from the inside...the money wasted, my health, the hours spent in those nasty filthy places, the lack of will power...I’ve been losing this battle fo so long. Can anybody relate to this type of addiction?
Anyhow, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my (dis)functional addict world!