I sold my body for a dose. Confessions of a drug addict

Whoever tastes a poppy tear will cry all his life...

Modern proverb

Drug addiction is dangerous because it is completely incomprehensible and incomprehensible.

Neither doctors nor researchers of drug addiction as a phenomenon answer the question “What actually happens in the psyche of a person who has begun to use drugs?” cannot give a definitive answer.

There are various descriptions, but the level and features of the deformation of the personality of a drug addict are not fully understood by any of the mortals.

Be patient, dear reader, if you want to understand these unfortunate people and, perhaps, love them, help them. Don't be afraid to "defile" your godly ears. Read on! These are the stories of our children, those whom we see on the street, in the subway ...


These are fragments of the world in which the children of our neighbors and friends, our employees and acquaintances, rich and poor parents, children of believing and unbelieving parents live.

Some of the authors of these testimonies are no longer alive. There is no one among the living who did not have the courage to put an end to the drug. For some of them, the breakdown was the last day of their lives. Many of them loved their parents, girlfriends, friends, life. Loved as best they could...

They wanted to find love, they were looking for it among narcotic dreams, but they left without finding it, so desired, without understanding why they were born on this earth.

It is a pity for the guys who left, unloved, misunderstood, who lost their childhood in the hustle and bustle of everyday parental cares, father's TVs and mother's kitchens. It's a pity for the guys who look so daring and "cool", ironic and declaring publicly that they "don't give a damn!".

Through these words, as through a reckless, merry, inconsolable laughter, pain and tears carefully hidden come through.

So, let's get acquainted with the addicts themselves.

“I was put on by a girl I fell madly in love with. They say that the one who first gave it a try gave it to me. Maybe...

I came to visit her, I knew that she was injecting, I was interested. She just cooked something, silently took my hand, kissed me and said: “Now I will crack you.”

I obediently extended my hand to her, and she pricked me. I really liked it, fell in love with her even more. They began to live together, shoot together, break apart together. She began to secretly tease me in the bathroom.

Then she came and with satisfied eyes depicted breaking. Then we broke up, I continued to tease. She's out there somewhere, too. Now I have not used constantly for three months, but I break down when I hear her voice on the phone.


Heroin love, heroin charm, heroin tenderness - it's true. Somewhere I heard that heroin addiction is sexually transmitted... Maybe. It’s true, I haven’t loved anyone yet.”

Sergey, 24 years old, does not work,

(experience - seven months)

“I trade not only because of money, although if I didn’t trade, then there would be nowhere to get money. Yes, in principle, when the buzz falls with a bonus, money is not needed. The process itself makes me happy - to pack a large amount and sell this shit. I constantly deal with him, talk about him, think about him, run into my veins, trade. Even now, in general...”

Alexey, heroin dealer, 20 years old,

(experience - 4 years)

Katya, worked as an accountant,

23 years old, (experience - 3 years)

“I got hooked corny - the huckster lived right in the entrance, that’s why he didn’t always take money from me ... And the funny thing is that pepper (product) was sold to him by his own uncle - at a discount, like a relative. Oil painting - Kiryukha takes out mother's gold to a pawnshop, and then gives love (money) to her mother's brother for a gerych.

The problem of drug addiction in Kazakhstan is acquiring terrifying proportions. Getting out of this vicious circle is difficult, but possible. Former drug addicts told the correspondent about their past - how they went through all the circles of drug hell.

In the village of Razdolnoye, Akmola region, there has been a Center for the Social and Psychological Rehabilitation of Drug Addicts for 11 years. Over the years of its operation, 681 patients received care here. Now the Center contains 20 people - 4 girls and 16 guys.

Here, former drug addicts work, communicate, talk with psychologists. The Center has a garden, animals, outbuildings. Patients live here for one year.

“You can think that there was a company, and I took to try the drug. It was, but that doesn't excuse me. I took heroin myself,” says Viktor P. from Karaganda, a patient at the Center. – I started taking heroin in my third year at KarSU. I took it for four months, then everything opened up. We sat at the table with my family and had dinner. I reached for bread. The sleeve slipped, and the sister saw the marks from the needle. Grabbing my wrist, she began to ask what it was. Somehow I justified myself. But my parents began to suspect - I always have no money, I constantly spend everything.

Once the relatives understood everything. It was a terrible grief for the parents. They gathered a council, and I myself suggested: I take an academy, I leave for the army. I served in Kapchagay for two years, and then for another three years as a contract soldier. For five years I was absolutely “clean”. But he still underestimated the power of heroin. Even on the train, when I was returning home, memories began to come to me. Thoughts, they are like crows overhead. I couldn't drive them away. I began to revel in the memories of the buzz, savor them. When he stood on the platform, he was already ready to inject himself.

I come home in uniform, with flowers, my mother opens the door, my father hugs me, and I think: “I need to go to the “pit” and inject myself as soon as possible!” Ate and took heroin. I fell into hell. Vicious circle: drugs and narcology. Doctors will remove the withdrawal symptoms, I’m “clean” for two or three months, and then I’ll prick again and off we go.”

Victor is looking for the causes of addiction in the past.

“Since childhood, I have not been deprived of the love of my parents. Do not think that drug addicts are asocial from childhood. I have a complete family, I have a sister, we were loved and tried to give everything, brought up well. I grew up in the 90s, so my parents did their best to keep us from starving. As children, we had a lot of free time. We met in the basements. And from somewhere in my mind the idea was established: “In life, you have to try everything.” Now I know how wrong I was.

Alcohol, cigarettes and nasvay became the catalyst for my drug addiction. In a club, a gateway, a basement, a friend's apartment, they can offer ecstasy, wheels, and some other psychoactive drugs. Try it - it will live in you. I tried the drug and, as they say, hit. At the initial stage, I did not understand the seriousness of this. And if I knew then what I was getting into, then I say, hand on heart - I would not even stand next to drugs. After all, my parents told me, as your mothers tell you now: “Vitya, this is bad, you can’t take drugs.” And I answered: "I know everything." But he didn't know anything!

Now Victor feels well, he has restored relations with his parents, his girlfriend is waiting for him.

“Now my whole gut is against drugs. That's enough, I'm stuck," he says.

But Victor still "cheaply" got off. Some have gone through hell, literally.

The story of Artem S. is shocking. A young blue-eyed guy went through a terrible school of life, and yet he survived. He was already in two rehabilitation centers - in the Kostanay region and in Russia.

"I am twenty seven years old. I am a former drug addict with nine years of heroin use. But it all started much earlier. I got into drugs at the age of 12. At first I started smoking marijuana. It seemed to be a prank. Then a friend suggested heroin. The first time I didn't like him. And then there was interest, I took it once or twice a month. Then he himself did not notice when he "climbed the dose." For 9 years I had remissions for six months to a year. And broke down again. Because of the drugs, I lost everything. I have no respect for relatives, a loved one, friends, goals in life, favorite work.

On the hands of the guy - transverse scars. Artem told their story.

“I have had several suicide attempts. So I tried to manipulate. My parents didn't give me money for drugs, and I said I would cut my hands if I didn't get them. They refused. And then I opened my veins.

Looking back, Artyom sees only graves.

“During the time that I am here, four people died, with whom we injected together. Another is in a "vegetable" state after an overdose. I myself have experienced 6 overdoses and 6 clinical deaths. The last one was literally a few weeks before arrival.

I had remissions thanks to sports. He helps me stay off drugs. A special help in my life is religion. The first two weeks of stay at the Center almost ended in a breakdown. When I started asking God for help, I felt better and stopped thinking about drugs. We go to church every Sunday."

Recently Artem had a birthday, his mother visited him. The guy restores relations with his parents.

“I feel so sorry for her. My mother always warned me against drugs. I was such a fool, I lost so many years of my life, the best years of my youth. Now it will be difficult for me to get an education.”

The Center also works with co-dependent parents. Can they get their child out of drug hell?

“No one will help a drug addict, except him,” local patients themselves say. - Plant a hundred psychologists - they can not do anything. Mom's tears, wife's pleas, children's crying will not help. Only myself. Relatives and friends can become a motivation, but they will not pull you out of the pit of drug addiction. Drug addicts are lonely people, they are social outcasts. They need support."

Now about 107 people who were previously treated at the Center are in remission. Many of them have started families and are raising children. Sometimes they come here for the holidays, talk with psychologists. And each of them hopes that they will never come here as a patient again.

There are few former drug addicts: most of them die before the age of forty, unable to return to reality after the next "arrival". Even fewer are those who, having managed to quit, agree to talk about their past. A resident of Molodechno, 35-year-old Mikhail Pilst is an exception to the rule: having jumped off the needle, he began to lecture at schools, talking without cuts about the deaths of friends and terrible breakdowns.

Spice is worse than heroin

- I started early: in the fourth grade I smoked, in the fifth - I drank. Then he began to sniff gasoline. There were no problems getting it. We approached the tankers and asked with a pitiful face: “Uncle, my moped has stalled around the corner, pour a liter into a plastic bottle.”

Then he switched to drugs. There was everything in my life: nasvay, which was bought without any problems in the rows with spices at Komarovka, and ecstasy, after which we, like energizer bunnies, could dance all day long, from the night disco immediately going to the morning one. Like all peers, they were looking forward to summer: not to swim and ride a bike, but because in the summer you can collect milk from poppies and brew the drug yourself without overpaying for a dose. Many lament the ban on growing poppies in their plots, saying that grandmothers don't even have anything to add to the pie. But I know what plantations these grandmothers sometimes grew for sale.

Thank God that in my time there was no spice - this is the most terrible drug. Familiar heroin addicts decided to try what it was, and as a result flushed it down the toilet: “Misha, we couldn’t smoke it: it’s a complete brain drain!”

The peculiarity of spice is such that it is impossible to guess the dosage: sometimes you smoke a whole handful and you don’t “insert”, and sometimes one pinch turns out to be fatal. Spice so darkens the mind that all taboos are erased. For example, in all my years of drug addiction, I have not taken a single thing out of my parent's apartment. And the spice cancels all prohibitions: under its action, you can beat your parents, gouge out your eyes, jump out the window. This is scary.

From breaking climb on the wall

- On the day of my twentieth birthday, I made myself a “gift” - for the first time I injected myself intravenously. When a drug addict injects many times in the same place, this is called a “road”. I still have a scar in its place. Not everyone injects into the elbow bend: some "widen" into the thigh, others - between the fingers. So the clean skin of the hands of a teenager, without bruises and injection marks, still does not say anything.

All drugs are taken for the “high” – the first adrenaline rush, which can be compared to jumping from an airplane: it becomes hot inside, a lot of energy is released. But this is too short a moment to endure the pangs of withdrawal later.

I experienced my first breakdown at a party: I was sitting on a friend’s couch, watching TV, and suddenly I felt my joints begin to twist in my arms, as if from a severe cold. Gradually, this feeling passes to the whole body: the person writhes, as if breaking him from the inside. If you do not take the dose quickly, withdrawal can be so strong that people literally climb the wall. At such moments, it does not matter what and how to use. I remember how, having nothing to inject, we walked through the porches, found a syringe from a previous drug addict, sharpened the needle on glass and used it in turn. I still wonder how I didn't catch anything. But my friend was less fortunate: he has HIV.

When giving lectures to schoolchildren, I give this example: when choosing a new phone, you always study its characteristics, weigh the pros and cons. But why, when reading rave reviews about "comings" and unearthly buzz, people do not even try to learn about the other side of the drug. But these are torments, pain, terrible diseases and broken destinies.

I was sober only when I was sleeping

My peak was at 24 years old. During that period, I was relatively sober only when I was sleeping. There were thoughts of committing suicide, especially since there was nothing much to lose: there were debts all around, there was no work, friends turned their backs. A friend of mine suggested that I go to church. I came to the service, listened to the singing of the choir - and suddenly there was a revolution in my soul, I felt that I could cope with everything. I know it sounds like a fairy tale, but after two weeks I was off drugs, and after a month I even gave up cigarettes.

Life gradually began to return to a peaceful course. An acquaintance, having learned that I was in the eyeballs, offered a good job - to make PVC windows. I got married and have three healthy sons. And there was also a need to do good: I help orphans, participate in round tables on the topic of drug addiction, give lectures at schools, and volunteer at a rehabilitation center in Vileyka, where young girls are treated for addiction.

Many people ask: why do you stir up the past? You are not afraid that because of your sincerity, acquaintances will turn away from you, there will be problems with work - who needs to deal with a former drug addict? But I want to save as many people as possible from the hell that I experienced. I hope that some schoolboy, having recognized me on the street, will not hesitate to come up with a question, and I will be able to save him.

Mikhail Pilst and his wife Anastasia are raising three sons

Advice from Mikhail Pilst

Children should have a dream

Parents should be alert to any changes in the child's behavior: he wore bright T-shirts - he switched to black long-sleeved sweaters. Was cheerful - became gloomy. All his life he loved his mother's borscht and grandmother's pies - but now he cannot stand them (under the influence of drugs, taste preferences also change). A student may have many “circles” and “electives”. “Mom, I have two extra maths after school today” - what parent would not be delighted with such zeal! And then it turns out that there are no special stages, and at this time the child is sniffing glue in the basement.

If suspicions about drugs are confirmed, the child should never be scolded. You should carry on a conversation, becoming one step with him, or even lower: “Forgive me for being busy all the time. I am guilty before you. I see that you have problems: let's solve them together” – this is the only way you can get through.

From childhood, a person should have a dream, even if it is unrealizable - to become an Olympic champion, an astronaut, a billionaire. This desire should not be ridiculed, on the contrary, it must be approved, nourished. In the name of a dream, it will be easier for a son or daughter to give up temptations.

Victoria KRUPENKOVA, ZN,

photo by Yulia SHABLOVSKAYA

Summer, I'm 21.
End of Perestroika...
Streams of "plan", "hashik" and all kinds of "related" goods of varying degrees of complexity poured into Moscow. Drinking vodka has become unfashionable ... because it's a "bull's high". It's fashionable to smoke planets or sniff coke (for the wealthy), gerych (middle class), ketamine evaporated (teenagers, low-income).
The effects were varied, I tried everything, but I started with a plan.

It's a lie that the plan itself involves a transition to a new stage of use, that is, to stronger substances.
No, a plan is a plan. But there is a special environment of communication, where people (your own, not strangers, you will not feel wary or dangerous) necessarily (THIS RULE!) appear, offering stronger drugs ....
First for nothing and of course just "sniff".
You can refuse for a long time, beat yourself with a heel in the chest, saying that you are not like that and only a PLAN, nothing more. Sooner or later you will become a NORMAL drug addict... you may not believe me, but I went through all this myself and not alone, but with a bunch of friends, comrades and acquaintances.

First experience:
Sat at work with friends. As always, they smoked.
A couple more people came, they brought heroin.
For us it was a curiosity, the very name - before only in the "non-Russian" cinema was heard. I would even say there was a touch of romance over it all....
No one refused, because we decided only to try, we are not some kind of drug addicts, we are only a plane and that one ... only on occasion.
Then there were "tracks", first impressions:
A blow to the brain, lightness, pleasant languor and, I would say, loss of conscience. That is, all "brakes" are released, absolutely all the problems of this reality go away ... No "glitches" or "flights".
Then - irresistible nausea and vomiting.
Vomited "further than you can see." After this process, it becomes easy and good again ... The effect lasted 40 minutes or a couple of hours.

Development:
Summer, I'm 22 years old.
I got used to the user environment very well.
We throw money, borrow, time, pawn gold and things to raise the amount for a couple of "balls"
(heroin was sold in balls - a small bundle of polyethylene in the form of a ball), we go to the "Banana" Institute of Friendship of Peoples on Patrice Lumumba Street.
Heroin was then traded by blacks.
There - one leaves for the goods and the waiting begins

Purchase:
In the park, near the institute, groups of blacks constantly hang out, usually hucksters.
They hold the balls in their mouths (sometimes, when there was no money at all, we just knocked out their teeth along with the balls).
You give money, and he spits "balls" on the asphalt.
You pick it up, wipe it off saliva and stomp to yours immensely satisfied ... - "the day was a success"

Injection:
Spring, I'm 23 years old.
The company is not decreasing, but the dose is growing.
Soon, the obtained high stops "inserting" such a crowd of people who want it.
So far, petty lies between each other, ratting have begun (for those who grew up in street teams, there is no need to explain what it is when you start lying to your own people and clamp down, sleeping off the buzz).
A person appears in the company who explains that if you "hit" (prick yourself), then this ball will be enough not only for us, but also for half of China !!!
Fear... desire to get high... craving... and here we are lining up for the "stacker" - we wouldn't have pricked an elephant ourselves.
Coming .... sensations 100 times stronger than, from "just smell"
Yes, they are truly indescribable.

Development:
Winter, I'm still 23 years old.
I'm already sitting tight on the needle.
Several times "jumped" when the "kumars" began.
This is when nasty sticky, transparent snot constantly flows, tears hail, it tickles in the throat, you don’t want to eat anything, you have hydrophobia, you can’t sleep, although you really want to, and nothing is interesting ...
That is ABSOLUTELY you can't occupy yourself with anything. Vacuum! Only one single thought drills the brain:
"I'm in!!! And all this will pass! Instantly!!! And it will be very good and everything will grow together!!!”
You just need to find money:
Borrow .... no one gives,
pawn something in a pawnshop ... everything is pawned and so,
“fall on the tails” of wealthier comrades ... but there are no comrades THERE.
There are only freeloaders and sponsors, as well as intermediaries (the same freeloaders), and sponsors can help out a couple of times no more.
And now you lie on the bed, you can’t do anything, because there is no strength and even desire. Praying for a phone that might take pity and ring...
... You will be told: "Come - everything is there!".
But this happens extremely rarely - it can take several days.
Then, after three days, he lets you go.
You can move around relatively well and even have the opportunity to make money!
And you again become a "welcome" guest, where two days ago you were sent to XXX!
They faithfully look into your eyes, they are interested in how you feel, although everyone doesn’t give a shit about you and your fucking well-being.
But drug addicts need at least the illusion of compassion, humanity, and all that they themselves have lost while getting high.

Summer, I'm 24 years old.
I wished. Lost appetite.
All eaten food flies out of you in a moment and from everywhere.
For a small need, you walk in the color of a good chifir.
Sleepy.
Hospital. Hepatitis C diagnosis...
Hope that it does not become chronic, because chronic hepatitis is incurable....
27 days hospital.
Stuck right there. Everyone was fed. There was as much heroin there as I had never seen in "freedom".
Two months after the hospital.
Diagnosis Chronic hepatitis "C".
They say you can live with him if you follow a diet ....
I continue to poke.

Night. Phone ring.
Dimon died.... How?! After all, he didn’t even prick, he just sniffed ...
Trip to Sklif... Doctor....
Dima really didn’t inject heroin, he just sniffed it, but he developed bronchitis, and heroin, like all opiates, paralyzes the respiratory (either centers or pathways).
He sniffed and fell asleep after a while.
"Friends" tried to wake him up, but he snored and did not wake up.
They put him to sleep...
They “snuck out” when he didn’t wake up for a day ... - breathing stopped in a dream and irreversible processes in the brain began.
Funeral... Rain, muddy clay. A lot of girls and boys .... Mother blackened from tears. Brother, he's shaking big.
Vodka in a circle. Dimon lies ... as if smiling.
A fake quartet of musicians is playing something hysterical....
More than half of the young people who arrived are "smeared"
Mother's cry...
"Freaks, bastards, brutes... it was YOU who killed him... he wasn't like that... it was you who gave him drugs..."
Musicians play louder...

Came from the cemetery....
Serega (Dimon's brother) went into his room, returned two minutes later with a bag.
There was 5 grams of heroin (he was already heavily injecting).
I went to the toilet and poured everything into the toilet .... said that he would no longer touch this muck ...
Two days later, we went with him in search of a dose.
Now he is still alive .... sitting on the system. He has hepatitis C and HIV.

Overdose:
Drinking at a birthday party.
Lacked "sharpness" of sensations. Called "youngsters" from our area.
As it turns out, the guys just got a lot of high. Ten minutes later I was at one of their blat-huts...
From drunken eyes, it seemed that they wanted to deceive, and they didn’t get 5 “points” into my “accordion” (as a rule, a “point” is one division on an insulin syringe, the syringe itself is an “accordion”).
Taking advantage of the fact that I am older and more "authoritative", I chose a complete "button accordion" and immediately "cracked" ...
Kaif plus vodka is a terrible mixture...
Eyes began to roll. I asked for help ... they “helped” me: they took me by the arms to the next room, laid me on some kind of trestle bed.
Then I remember only the bathroom ... Cold water, blows on the cheeks ... vomiting ... the cry of the only true friend left. He shouted obscenities, I will not quote ...
It turned out that when they put me in the room, everyone forgot about me. Quite by accident, the landlady came in for some thing and saw me.
According to the description, I was blue ... Lips, nails, blackened eyelids, circles under the eyes ... She leaned over to listen .... I did not breathe. The hostess ran into the room to the "youngsters", said ...
They offered to take me out and throw me away from the entrance, so that, if anything, the "garbage" would not burn the house ...
But then my friend called - he was looking for me ...
And so my salvation happened. A friend knew how to do artificial respiration and just pumped me out.
Then I also pumped him out a couple of times when he caught overdoses ...
Many caught them... In entrances, in toilets, often in public ones. They came to their senses, lying there on the floor ...
We were not homeless or beggars. Many were very successful businessmen in the beginning. There were families. There was work, study, sports...
It all disappeared like dust, and very quickly.

Breaking:
Summer, I don’t remember how old I am ... because I feel bad ... not just bad, but p ....c.
Kumars and Lomka.
This, if compared, is heaven and earth. That is, the sensations are the same as with Kumaras, but ten times more concentrated.
Not nice white light. You do not know how to lie down so that it is comfortable. Any body position after four to eight seconds becomes heavy, uncomfortable, and you spin like a top.
Then comes sticky, nasty cold sweat. You can’t wash, because it’s not possible to take a vertical position and walk to the bathroom.
Later, pain is added to sweat, snot, saliva, tears and general discomfort ...
At first, not strong, pulling pain in the joints.
Then the pain grows... You can forget about painkillers - they do not work... Even not every anesthesia will work... Only the dose will save!
For which at this moment I am ready to sell my own mother, wife and children (I do not lie and do not embellish, ask those who experienced this).
You howl, rolling on the bed or the floor... and it does not go away for a day or two - it just proceeds in waves, and the whole process of breaking down after three days flows into kumar, and then only, after four or five days, it ends completely.
You sleep, at best, for two hours, and then on the second third day ...
I saw my mother's eyes when she saw me like this...
I can’t describe them ... - she aged ten years at once ...
Then an ambulance ... Injections, droppers ... In general, the standard life of a drug addict ...
Vows that are worthless, but you yourself firmly believe in them and break them in five minutes. Leaving home... and the Lie that your whole life is simply saturated with.

You don't trust anyone. You become a dodgy, lying brute with no self-respect...

Your company is just like you...
Girls are impregnable beauties who once "powdered" their noses, now five hundred ruble whores (at best) ... or just ... for a dose
Boys, almost all of them, who have gone through a prison or zone, who have lost faith in themselves, but who continue to live in illusions...
Illusions that you can escape from there yourself ...
Yes, some people do it. I read about it and heard a lot of fairy tales, tales, how someone just quit and that's it, but for this you need to at least get off the system ...

All feelings are lost...
Love, a sense of duty, all social obligations and so on.
That is, you remember that you must love your mother, wife, children, but you can’t ... There is no response in your soul ... It’s empty there.

Sex.
In the beginning, everything is very fine: you can practice for hours.
After a couple of months of use, the special need for it seems to disappear, but by inertia it still happens ...
Then the desire disappears, and after it the opportunity.
In women, the menstrual cycle stops.
In men, serious problems with erection begin, but this is of little concern ....

The system is when the drug is used by the hour, that is, for example, every five hours ... otherwise withdrawal occurs.

Dirty solution - when there is not enough heroin, and the huckster interferes in order to sell a dose and get his own.
They often mix in various powders for volume ...
... and, God forbid, that they are at least safe, because it can be cement (they interfere with weight, but rarely); diphenhydramine - enhances the high and breaks twice; sugar - increases the volume, God forbid, you have diabetes - this is instant death.
There are still a lot of impurities to increase the volume.
With the introduction of such a "bodyagi", you may be "shaken".
What it looks like:
First, there is dryness in the mouth.
Then, the temperature rises, maybe up to forty.
You start to pound, vomiting appears, your heart threshes in an outrageous mode, blood poisoning is possible, then it’s clear ...

At the beginning of the use, there were 27 of us - guys and girls who constantly talked, met.
Everyone tried the plan, 23 of them tried heroin.
They limited themselves to single uses or immediately abandoned 2 people.
During the use, 9 of my friends and comrades, aged 18 to 34, died.
95% of all acquaintances from that social circle have been to prison.
90% suffer from hepatitis.
HIV 50%.
Tried to quit and more than once 100%.
Tied up 0% (taking into account the term of the tie) for at least a year.
This gloomy statistic also takes into account later acquired "companions" in use.

NOTHING IS IMPROVED, SOMETHING IS NOT EVEN DESCRIBED, AS IT IS DIFFICULT FOR A "SOBER" ONE TO ACCEPT.

There are many more "charms" of the life of a drug addict, but I ask you very much, think about it, do you need to check everything for yourself?
Or take my word for it that in this case you are not unique and you do not have immunity, just as several million drug addicts do not have it.
And just believe me, no one immediately starts injecting heroin into their veins (any sane person will not be able to inject himself immediately and soberly) ...
It all starts with a simple “smoke”, .. fashionable “sniff coke”, .. Or when drinking beer is not enough, but you want some kind of “harmless” prank.
If, after reading all this, you are sure that this will definitely not happen to you and you will just smoke planchik and that’s it (Just don’t talk about Byron, please), then God will judge you.
I will only be glad if my and not only my "experience" turns out to be erroneous.

Now:
I've been sober for seven months.
I rejoice every day, every morning ... only a few of these days remain ...
Hepatitis, though gentle, is a killer.
And rarely does anyone live with him longer than 15-18 years.
I've had it for almost ten years now. And every time the attacks (spring - autumn) become longer and harder, and the price of therapy is growing and all the time in U.E.
Just listen to the above and make a decision for yourself for life ... Just do not need half measures, such as once a week or once a month.
YES - use, smoke, sniff, inject ...
NO - to raise children, care for, help parents, love loved ones.

Good day, my dear friends and readers! This article is not quite usual for me. “Confessions of a drug addict. I hate myself". It was written as part of the 2100 words a week marathon organized by Svetlana Loktysh. This is not the first event organized by Svetlanka in which I host.

For myself, I decided that I would post my reports on the work done on the Zen channel. It’s convenient for me and the organizer of the marathon can always watch. The first stories I published on the channel " About life, money and love", then to " Zebra ».

At first, the channel “About the life of money and love” was blocked for me, allegedly for copy-paste. I created another - "Zebra". Thankfully, it's free. I was blocked and the second. Now the wording is different:

The channel is limited in its display, as it violates the requirements for publications, namely, it contains materials that can frighten or shock readers, containing descriptions and / or images of: victims of disasters and violent acts, corpses, diseases and deformities, intimate parts of the body and the process of childbirth, injuries, diseases, insects and animals, whose sight causes disgust.

About Zen and my relationship with him, I will write a little later. Now a little more about this note.

On the channel, the story was called “Why do I hate this life? Because I hate myself!" For the blog, I changed the title to Confessions of a Drug Addict. I don’t know, maybe, by the standards of the Yandex.Zen security service, the article will scare or shock someone, but I was thinking about something else.

For young people, there are too many temptations in life. They are urged on by friends, they are taken to "weak". And rarely does anyone think that one wrong step can ruin a life. Now that you know the motives that prompted me to write this story, read it.

I am twenty seven years old. My life is a nightmare. Nobody needs me. Even my mother wants me dead. Desires and fears that it will happen. She can be understood. It is hard to see how a son does not live, but suffers.

My father was killed by a drug addict. He just needed money for a dose. Maybe he didn't want to kill. But, pulling out the purse from the father, he pushed so that the father fell and hit his temple on the curb.

Mom is afraid that I will become a murderer too. And I am the killer. I'm killing myself.

I hate this life. I hate myself. I hate heroin and can't live without it. I am a heroin addict. Heroin has replaced everything and everyone for me. Heroin took everything and everyone from me.

Did I think when I held out my hand for the injection for the first time that it would be so? Of course not. A friend suggested: “Try it! Once doesn't count." And I agreed. It was a turning point in my life. It was at that moment that life was divided into “before” and “after”.

"Before" everything was fine. A loving family, studying at the institute, a girlfriend, friends ... “After” is a constant race in search of a dose, tears of a mother, loss of friends and a girlfriend, withdrawal symptoms ...

My friend became my huckster. But not for long. He was stabbed with a knife by a sufferer, to whom he did not give a dose in debt.

How many hucksters were then? Almost all of them chipped, unable to withstand the temptation. Each addict has his own list of those who left earlier. And on this list, sooner or later, he will also take his place, become one of the many losers in the drug game.

What my parents didn't do, trying to pull me out. They talked, explained, treated, giving a lot of money. Many profit from this business, promising to get rid of the problem forever.

Don't believe! They do their business. All they can do is drip to remove the withdrawal. No one can change brains.

Parents closed the houses, handcuffing them to the radiator. I understood that they wanted the best for me, but my body, my mind demanded a dose. And I ran away in search of adventure.

The Institute is gone. For two years I tried to study. But then I was "taken" at the point. I was under investigation. Huckster tried to present me as a salesman. The investigation sorted it out, but I received my “condition” for storage and consumption for personal purposes.

I was afraid to get into the zone. Stopped pricking. Thought I was done. I stayed for three months. But then he didn't sleep at all. Closing his eyes, he constantly saw a syringe. And I broke.

There was an overdose. Who is the kind person who called the ambulance, I do not know. But then I was grateful to him. I really wanted to live! I was still hoping that I could do it.

For six months, for six months I did not touch drugs. This is a good timing. The body is cleansed. But the mind is not. The day my father passed away, I broke down again. I don't remember the funeral. I was crazy.

On my father's nine days, there was an overdose again. Saved by mom. She, sensing something was wrong, went into the room. I didn't breathe. She kicked me, forcing me to breathe. Made me. And now he lives in constant fear that this will happen again.

I myself wanted to be treated after that. I felt sorry for my mother. The silent reproach in her eyes burned my soul. Does an addict have a soul? I don't know. I think it's a black hole instead.

I myself found the group "Life without drugs." It's kind of like Alcoholics Anonymous. Everyone talks about himself, his problems, about what he wants. There was only one installation - to live a clean day.

The people in the group were different. People are constantly changing. Someone came in the hope of changing their life, someone left forever - to another world. Those who still managed to escape from the clutches of the white monster also came. Their example gave hope.

In the group he met Varya. There was mutual sympathy. We began to live together. We didn't plan anything. We just rejoiced at every day we lived without a white infection, and my mother was happy for us. And thanked God.

I worked as a loader in a store. Varya did her nails. She is an excellent craftsman. Old clients returned to her, several people a day signed up. There is free money. Life got better. We even started making plans for the future.

But then something went wrong. Once, running to dinner, he found Varya passed out. There was a syringe nearby. I got feverish right away. I ran for a dose. A month of nightmare for me, Varya, mom.

And then it was all over. Varya and I hid our sweets from each other. And this time I didn't have time to hide. While he was talking to his mother, Varya shrugged. It was the last injection in her life.

The investigator later said that the heroin was laced with some kind of filth. It turns out that Varya saved my life. Mom says that Varya's death is on my conscience.

And I know it myself. I looked into the eyes of death again. She shows herself to me, but does not take away yet. She plays with me. Maybe make a "golden injection" and that's it?

But what about mom? She will feel bad without me. But she feels bad for me too.

I'm at a dead end. Been stuck for a long time. And the path to this dead end is paved with corpses.

I understand that life is not to blame - I am to blame. But I hate this life because I don't know how to live. And I hate myself...

Discussion of the story "Confessions of a drug addict"

I understand that it is not easy to discuss such things. Express your opinion about what you read. Are such publications necessary?

PS: I deleted this story from the channel.

Good luck to all of us!

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