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Drug Abuse

For the most part, tweak dealers are like the President of the Hair Club For Men: not just the President, but also a client. It’s not a group of people who follow the adage “don’t get high on your own supply.”

The first time I met Heroin, she was smeared with static, spiraling down the coast in electrical signals, crowding my ear with a dull silence that I struggled to fill.

It’s true that a predictable combination of brown hair and brown eyes plagued the Sakatawas, though Steve never had much trouble circumventing this mundanity. No, Steve had done quite well for himself all things considered, and life would continue to march along in his favor for some time before tragedy took its toll.

If the ’60s had LSD and the ’80s had cocaine, my generation has prescription pills. Adderall, Xanax, Ambien, Vicodin—these are the things that make many 20-somethings world go ’round.

I have been standing in love for eleven years now. I met her in algebra class and we hit it off immediately and then one night she came over to my house and we drank whiskey from a water bottle and fucked for hours and hours. She was perfect and fourteen; I was it and fifteen. She was my second but she was still a virgin and bled all over.

On the bus I sipped gin and started to feel shitty. I passed out and when I was in New Jersey near Manhattan, I woke up and felt great. I called my roommate and told him that we had to party as soon as I got back. At my apartment, the two of us railed the rest of the Ativan and drank a 24oz can of Bud each. I was feeling tired, so I bought an Adderall off of him and took that.

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