So this is a somewhat personal story I feel I can finally share on here. This is from a bad, or should I say worse, time in my life. I have only told this full story to my friend Blu.
So this dates back about two years ago on a night that, then and now, has never been able to leave my mind. I can't go a day without this memory coming back to me. I guess lets just say it's a night to remember.
I was at home and in my room by myself. Sick to my stomach at the news I have just heard. I felt horrible, sick, and out of control. The night could not get any worse...or could it? One could decide one way or another.
I began thinking of drug cocktails to take...Neapolitans even. Whatever floats your boat. I was out of most of my narcotics and was desperate for a high or a getaway of some sort. I started scrambling through my shoe box of drugs to find anything worth taking. Nothing...
I started off by smoking some weed and popping some temazepam. Next, honestly, any drug could have been taken. I don't really remember. From here on I was still desperate for my getaway. I get an idea.
I mixed up a shot of Temazepam. I put the powder in a spoon with water and stirred it up. Stuck the needle in it and drew back. No filter was used. I stuck the needle in the vein in my left arm. Shot it up. I instantly said "I need more".
So I found some Seroquel... This is where shit gets bad. I prepared another shot just like the above except this time it was Seroquel. I stuck the needle in the same vein and banged that shit up.
Within ten seconds I was wobbling, dazed, and confused. I was definitely in a getaway at this point. Next thing you know I'm curled up in the bed with my head tucked in my legs. The most excruciating pain was going through my head. I have never been in so much pain.
For about 3 hours I was stuck in this position because if I was to move, the pain would strike me 5 times as worse. I say "fuck it, I need help". I get up and look at my phone. I'm staring at it like its a foreign object. "How do I call someone? How can I get help?"
I rush to find a heating pad and discover my mom is around. "I need a heating pad mom." She can't find one so I wobble back to bed and fall down in it for another 2 hours in the same position. My mom comes in with a heating pad she finally found. I wrapped it around my head.
About another hour later I just black out. Next thing that happens is me waking up in the bed confused and questioning my every action the night before. I see my mom and she asks me "Were you drunk last night?" "No mom."
Now what bugs me the most is that I can't decide, after taking all of these drugs, was I trying to OD and kill over on purpose? Or was it all just a stepladder that led to it? Everyday this runs through my mind.
What do you think? Obviously you could never know for sure. Just from what I have wrote...do you think I tried to OD?
I don't know the answer and never will. Thanks for reading my story. It has taken two years for me to come out and say it.