Why drugs destroyed my life
Drugs destroyed my life. Alcohol is a drug. And we all know what that did to me. But if I had just remained within the boundaries of drinking alcohol it probably wouldn’t have been that bad for me. It wouldn’t have destroyed my life. Alcohol is legal. And when you are on the legal side of the law it’s all good. No Police, no hiding, no nothing. I’m going to tell you about the time I started to take illegal drugs. Cannabis to be precise. Pot, Mary Jane, Marijuana or Wacky Baccy as other people referred to it as.
I remember it like it was just yesterday. It was a hot summers day. I could feel that if I didn’t get somewhere cool I would melt into the pavement. There was no breeze and it was one of those days where you’d rather be at the beach than kicking around my own place. I had just been back from the berry picking venture I had been on. Knowing some of the local lads they managed to get me on a stint with a local wheeler and dealer that took local lads out to the fields. I knew everyone there. It was fun.
My friendship with Ryan had been increasingly declining for about a year now. I’m not too sure when it started but his availability to be out and about with me was beginning to fade. Perhaps he had other things to do? I’m not too sure. Ah! I think he had a girlfriend at the time which meant that he was out a lot less. Quite an adult thing for a 15-year-old, but you know! Kids like to explore. I didn’t have much to do. And I had money. Usually, when I had money we’d go and gamble it. Or I’d get Ryan and we’d go and get some booze. But today. I was stuck for ideas. I was on my own. And I had money.
Probably one of the stupidest ideas I’ve ever had in my life was to go to the chip shop and see what my local associates were doing that day. The chip shop was where everyone from the area would hang about my age. We were all young, and stupid, and we thought we were tough. I knew most people there. We all went to the local schools and we had known each other since we were knee high to a grasshopper. We all had money. Obviously, because we had just been berry picking. And I could tell everyone was restless. They wanted to be doing something but I couldn’t tell what?
“Hey everyone. What are you all up to today?”
“Well, we’re all going to get totally stoned out of our minds,” they said as if it was something did every day, and it wasn’t unnatural.
There was something inside me that was really curious about what being stoned was like. I’m not too sure why. I guess being in a crowd of people that I knew I sort of felt safe in a way. And I wanted to try it.
So the conversations started and I ended up purchasing a gramme of soap bar. Soap Bar was the name for a slightly browning chunk of Cannabis resin. Not like Skunk of course. Skunk would have blown my head off and sent me to the moon, but this was a gentle intro into to the drug world. And thus started my days of rolling joints, meeting new and strange people and sinking faster and faster into the underworld than one could imagine.
I don’t think people realise the actual level that I managed to put myself on in the world when I started to take drugs. I mean truly realise. When I started to engage in illegal activity then I would be on the same level as other people engaging in illegal activity. I was introduced to my drug dealer. You see drug dealers like to start you off when you are young. Get a young person and they can be an income stream for life. It’s the way these trades work. It’s an unfortunate mess. My drug dealer was a big bloke. I can remember him being twice as thick and as tall as me. A person you really shouldn’t mess with. And that was the way these guys were. You couldn’t be anything less. Or people would just kick your door down, smash you up and steal your stash.
I remember an off-the-wall conversation I had with one person several months into my drug use. He was at my dealers, hiding. He was scared because he had lost £150 worth of cannabis money and people were coming to get him, looking for him. These weren’t small town either. They wouldn’t think twice about shooting him in between the eyes for the loss of £150. I remember being scared for him, and also similarly thinking, “what the hell am I doing?”
My drug use became heavier over the coming months, and although I remained strictly to cannabis I would always have to find the money for it. Berry picking had ended and I had no avenue to make any money. What did I do? I stole. I stole everything I could get my hands on. I became a right little kleptomaniac. I managed to almost empty our own house out of anything remotely valuable and pawn it down at the local pawn shop for tuppence. It was a sad state of affairs. People judged me too. Harsh judgements from all across our council estate towards what I was doing. And they were right. I was being a little shit. Yet I didn’t care. I was only looking for my next fix. Alcohol and Cannabis. Those were my things.
People didn’t trust me either. As soon as I was brandished a thief and a drug user my trust rating had degraded to sewer level. I was watched everywhere I went in another’s house. Scared that I might pinch something valuable. Or use their house as my next drug den. Who knows. People were scared. I was an illegal. I did illegal stuff.
And the people that I would bump into and strike up relationships with. I look back and can’t quite believe the social circles I was in. And it’s probably why Ryan dumped me as a friend in the end. As a drug user himself I think even he had standards that he wasn’t willing to cross. Me? I had crossed all of them. I can remember moving between piss stained, heroin-addled criminals to super hyper speed heads. We had them all in my area. And as a young boy, you see it all. The avenues that can open up to you are unbelievable if you choose to walk that path.
I’d probably get laughed at now if I wanted to venture back down that road. I think I had to start off young. Or, they wanted to corner me when I was young. That life doesn’t quite coincide with the morals of oblivious 30 something adults. When you’re young you can be moulded. Moulded into thinking a certain way, your morals skewed into a different perspective. A different way of thinking. A way of life.
If you ever need drugs but don’t have the cash. Never borrow. It’s an avenue that you don’t want to go down. I was really lucky most of the time. I always found the money to pay for what I borrowed. Yet there were times when I ended up not having the money. Those were always times when hash was shared and so was the responsibility for the money. Some people would borrow having no idea when they would be able to pay people back. One dude never had the money. I learned fast never to split my dope with this guy. I’ll never forget the time some massive dude came to my Grans door to reclaim his £5 because of that arsehole. Told us all he’d pay it and turned up with nothing. Five fucking pounds. No joke. Yet a dealer has a reputation to uphold. You get a reputation for being soft and everyone takes the piss. I’ve seen people beaten to a pulp for less than £10. But who knows. Maybe he turned his life around like me and so many others.
I look back and thank my Dad. It was my Dad that eventually wrenched me out of that life and took me down England. Just ripped me out of the situation and I disappeared from sight. Left my friends and acquaintances behind and off I flew. That was it. No more. Off to begin a new world down England. To be honest, I was thankful, and it’s probably one of the few good things Dad did for me in his life. He saved me. Saved me from Jail, probably. Or worse, death. Stabbed ten times in the back for the drugs in my possession. Who knows.
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