My life, my high- my first time

It has gotten to the stage where everything I use puts me straight to sleep. I saw this thing on Oprah, brain scans of drug users, they were full of holes. The 'expert' stated that once addicts have been using for awhile they'll start exhibiting classic signs of dementia and alzheimers. People always warn you that if you try drugs just once then you will become addicted. At the time you look at this 'grown-up' (enevitably it will be an adult imparting their wisdom) and think 'what the hell do you know?' Things have changed in the decades between your youth and mine.

The first time I tried speed I pretended that I knew what I was doing. In my high school I had ignored the rumours of me that floated around, about my promiscuity and my supposed drug addicted state. Which of course led to more being spread and then believed.

When I first tried speed I was a virgin and as innocent as a babe. I cut it out onto an ornate hand mirror in my friends stylish bathroom. She (being inexperienced she confessed shyly) wanted to see herself in the mirror while it was happening. We used my blue bank card to spread the granular powder into a rough line. I rolled up a fifty dollar note (of course at that stage I still had money) and pressed it against the mirror. It really was a pretty mirror, it looked like something you would label 'shabby-chic.' I was stalling. I glanced at my friend who was so excited she hadn't noticed my hesitation. I took two deep breaths and thought 'oh God, oh God, oh God.' I put the other end of the fifty into my virgin nose. I inhaled. An immediate effect. I felt high. The back of my throat felt incredibly sour and granular. She did it to and we stood there looking at ourselves and each other in the mirror grinning like shiny, happy people. She said "does it always feel like this?" More grinning.

We went into the Fremantle that night, the harbour city, full of friends and good fortune. We stayed until people started weaving their way out of their beds and into the cafes for breakfast. We danced in the streets, we sang love songs and we learned how to breath and juggle fire from a busker named Frank.

And really, that was it. I was addicted, to the feelings of dear friendship, of excitement, adventure and confidence. I had escaped my boring and miserable reality, I had not fallen but leaped into the rabbit hole. So my life began as a part-time party goer which led to being a full blown junkie where my friends were dropping off like flies. That was my first time.