The hardest thing last time I did my rattle was that I genuinely missed the ritual of injecting. Putting everything in the pan, cooking it up, drawing it into the barrel. Then putting the tourniquet on, finding a nice vein and breaking the skin, pulling back on the plunger hoping you're in and you register blood, then... pushing down on it, slowly. Nothing but the sound of your breathing and the beat of your heart. And it hits you, the warm haze wrapping itself around, that sickly sweet taste at the back of your throat, veins burning slightly as it courses through you.
Man, I wish I hadn't missed that last shot.