Threw out my cat's pipe two weeks ago, she'd been smoking crystal pretty often with her tomcat boyfriend and they'd basically decided they'd been hitting it a little too often and a little too hard.
My cat's friend is a heavy meth user, he used to be gay, but since he's been on the meth wagon, his orientation has switched to straight and he's living with another reasonably heavy meth user... I guess this is comfortable for both of them, but I also believe they're in love, so good luck to em.
The trouble with my cat having friends that are users, means the availability of meth is a little too easy. I'd say in the last six moths, my cat has used every second weekend, if not more often (there have been three and four day benders thrown into the mix, that I can recall for my cat) and had some of the greatest times of her life. My cat describes to me stories of unbridled, incredible sex, whereby her ass becomes a demanding mistress that craves to be fucked hard for hours and then days with dick, multiple toys and fists. My cat's tomcat boyfriend has also experienced sexual liberation on meth that he never thought possible. But I'm sure my cat can give us more details on that later. The productivity, the porn, the cleaning, the rush, "the feeling" and the amazing goodness you get from this shit, my cat tells me, is just plain fucking wicked good.
My cat is shit scared. The relationship she has with tomcat is the best thing she's ever come across. Period. You know how they say about love and "the one" and spending forever together, "when you know, YOU KNOW"? - Well my cat knows. Down to her bones, inner core and her soul. No question.
So, with something so precious, so sacred and so beautiful in my cat's life and then, a year in, the introduction of meth amphetamine (ICE) suddenly things have gone flat chat and the ride was a fast one, an incredibly, fucking exciting one... albeit a scary one and now... things have to slow down and eventually... stop. There's that word. "Stop". Scares the fuck outta my cat. Makes her tense up. Makes her want to cry. In fact, she cried yesterday, two weeks into a meth detox (tomcat inflicted, or self inflicted... lets say it was a joint decision and couple inflicted instead, that makes my cat feel better) because she had to hook up her sister with some ice for a festival and felt like she was missing out. Poor cat. Poor, pathetic, loser cat. It's just a poisonous drug that rots your teeth and makes you more likely to die of heart failure. It's just a little bag of white crystals that weighs next to nothing. It's just the drug with the worst reputation in the world. It's just a little weekend play that my cat is always too embarrassed to talk to anyone about for fear of judgement. It's just making my cat's sexlife with tomcat in their "straight and sober world" a little less interesting. It's just making my cat climb the walls each day she's without it. It's just under her skin and I fear so bad for my cat that she's going to fail to be strong enough to leave it behind, even slowly, or if she's lucky, completely.
How the fuck is my cat supposed to have a good time without it?
How on earth is my cat meant to leave it alone?
Two weeks have passed and when she first threw away the pipe while her tomcat was working interstate, she felt liberated, like it was "time" to get rid of it, and tomcat felt the same. See, tomcat is "the responsible one". My cat's rock (pardon the pun). The smart one. The one with self control and the "non-addictive" personality in the feline couple. My cat however, is and always has been a greedy drug user. Started with pot at 14, used fairly heavily. Gave it away during her latter teenage years and then in the early twenties, discovered ecstacy, MDMA and coke. Used these fairly regularly also into her mid twenties. Now it's late twenties and ice has made it's appearance and I doubt how my cat can manage to make a life without it rearing it's ugly head every month or so. My cat is also a professional. Tertiary qualifications, works in a medical related field and always shows up for work presentable and does a kick arse job.
Tomcat, he brings in the big bucks, works his ring off and is too clever for his own good. But like I said earlier, he's the responsible one. Taking care of the two of them, where my cat can't, is his job. He does it well. Though yesterday when my cat came bawling her eyes out and collapsing at his chest because she felt the urge to use SO BADLY, he felt he had really failed to monitor the use of this poison effectively and was not doing his job properly. Easy to do when tomcat can just "switch off" his need for meth and my poor cat is literally daydreaming about sucking on the end of a loaded pipe and enjoying the billowing clouds of smoke almost every hour.
See, the cats have to do the same thing. They're a team. Tomcat reels them in where things get out of hand, my cat likes to initiate the dangerous fun they can get themselves into. Sounds toxic. A little maybe. BUT, the love is the underlying thing. Neither of the cats will do anything to compromise the other, so in essence, they're both safe from whatever life can throw at them... right?
That's where it gets blurry for my cat. She thinks the meth could be that one thing, capable of destroying it all. My cat is pretty determined, don't underestimate her, but we all know, those who are determined, fierce and brave, are usually cowering on the inside. That's why I wanted an outlet for her, here on DF.
I will post more when I have more. Right now, my cat is scared, dying to use, dying to fuck like a demon and scream like a banshee, dying to buy a little baggy of that heavenly poison that is quite likely destroying the very soul, she has given to her tomcat.
Jesus Christ. Writing this on behalf of my cat makes me feel sick to my stomach. Time will make this better, I know it will, but that PULL it has... the way it calls your name relentlessly and makes you want to find a way to wander over it. It's like NOTHING I've ever experienced before.