Bitch (wabitwithahabit) wrote in pro_smack,

A "Krackhead Chronicles" community post

I remember an incident some couple years back that will always stay glued to the back of my mind to never forget. I had my encounters with a numerous amount of drugs back then trees, yay, special k, ecstasy, but the worse of my addictions was yet to come. I fell in love with this guy, I'll call him Donnie. Donnie was my world, my everything. However falling in love came at a bad price as it is always presumed it does. I fell for him not really knowing who he really is. Later finding out much of his baggage when it was already to late. The main one being that he was hooked on crack. I remember the first time trying it with him, honestly I didn't even know what I was sniffing. That's right sniffing, not yet smoking it, being as how I told him that I was not into crack and would prefer some lines of coke before he turned it into crack. He lied and gave me some whitish, beigeish substance he said was coke and so I snorted it. Me being so damn naive I didn't question it. It wasn't until later on when I saw him put the same stuff from the same baggie into his glass stem and smoke it that I questioned to myself whether or not I had been had. But honestly if the answer was yes, did it really matter at that point? No, cause all I wanted was to be with Donnie, be in his crazy carefree world were life seemed sweet cause you didn't give a damn about the little things, nothing mattered except us and the particular moment we were in. I was in awe at the way he made me feel, I was free, and felt like a little kid when I was with him, he loved me I felt in way no ever made me feel. He made me feel like I was the one person that mattered most to him and that made me feel so special. This was it I thought, this was what it feels like to be in love with someone and have them be in love with you.

So you can image the hurt I felt when Donnie left me one day so abruptly just like that. He was on some crack binge while I was at work when he called me and ripped out my heart over the phone. Just like that. I was devastated, heart broken, I wanted to die, I couldn't find a reason to be, and to top it all off I was now facing my own crack addiction. By this time I had smoked it enough times with him that it had become a pet peeve of mine, a late night favorite snack of mine if you want to call it. Donnie had no real place of his own, he was always moving from place to place so there was no way of finding him, he had no cell. It was always him finding me. I didn't see him for days and decided that the only way to be close to him was to go to all the areas we'd hung out. I wanted to sabotage my life if he wasn't part of it. So I decided after work one day to go to the crack spot where Donnie would have me wait outside the door to buy some crack in some projects. I wasn't at all nervous, it was like I was on a death wish and nothing seemed to phase me. So reach my destination and I get into the elevator with some black lady in her late 20's it seems who was obviously pregnant cause her belly was out to there. Anyway, I am just hoping this chick doesn't get off in the same floor as my dealer's floor cause then what am I gonna freaking do? So the elevator stops at my floor and just my luck the bitch is getting off in the same floor. I try and lag behind some, so I give her time to get to her destination without her catching on to mine. To my surprise her's was the same as my own. I slowed my pace but was not about to turn around and call it a day, fuck that I no longer cared anymore.

She was about to knock when I caught her eye. She quickly looked in my direction at me in somewhat stunned not sure of what to do next. I could imagine her thought of my first impression, a well dressed, business suited, young, light skinned female doesn't usually fit the crack den visitor type. She boldly asks me if I was visiting the same door. I said yes. You lookin for "Dealer's name goes here?" Yes I replied. She decides to knock under the circumstances. To our misfortune the dealer's brother answers, he seemed to be in a shitty ass mood and takes a look at the both of us quickly replying "Dealer's name ain't dealing shit no more, get the fuck outta here, I'm serious!" Then slams the door in our no good faces. We quietly slowly walk off in devastation back to the elevator. While in each others' presence she asks me if I was looking for the same thing as she. Crack? Yes, why else would I be there. I ask her if she knows of any other source? She says she knows of some young kids who hang around the neighborhood from time to time and also deal. But seems reluctant to say anymore by the way she is looking me up and down. I say look, I know what your thinking, but I ain't no cop, I know I look out of place here but that is only because I'm coming from work and all I want if a fix. Besides the fact that I told you I wasn't a cop and now trying to get you to help me score can't land you in jail because cops aren't allowed to do it that way. She responds, "oh, I know what you mean, it's what they call entrapment?" Exactly, I say. So she agrees to help me score but only under the circumstances that I'm treating her. I say agree to this but inform her that I only have enough for one measly $20 baggie cause I'm pathetically broke. Whatever she says. So we find the kids, we score the shit, run back into the project building behind the elevator to some secluded staircase steps where one of us pulls out a stem. I throw the rock in and offer her the first hit. She is reluctant to take it and says, no, you take it first, I want to see that you really take it before I do. I grin and shake my head and take the first hit. She continues to want to guide me to take a long enough pull with a decent amount of held inhalation so to be finally satisfied that she has nothing to worry about with me being an undercover cop. I exhale and pass it to her she quickly grabs it without hesitaion and takes a hit. As I try an appreciate what I hope is coming to me in this high, I stare down at her and it hits me. Not the high hits me, but the fact that I am smoking crack in the projects with some black chick who is expecting a baby. I zone in on her belly. Do I dare ask? Fuck it, already went this far might as well. Can I ask you something? She says yeah, alright. Why do you smoke this when your pregnant? She looks straight at me and says, "well, I've been smoking this for a long time now, I was hooked way before I got pregnant, and then after i just didn't know how to stop, I'm addicted to it, I can't stop." She then asks me why I do it? Adding that I don't look like the type that would. I said to her she really didn't either to tell you the truth. Why do I do it? Someone I really loved put me on to it, he left my life not to long ago and left this addiction behind to remember him by. I went to work the next the and wrote about this lady in my journal, and right before ending the entry all I could think of that I didn't seem to think of while it all took place in those projects was, how could I have done such fucked up thing to that child.
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