smack, crack, bushwacked

In time we all find meaning “in” life, but not the meaning “of” life, but it is those brief glimpses of truth that hold us to the fabric of life continuing to search for significance. I myself find being in love closest to the meaning of life, but I also know that it is ephemeral, and the meaning I’m looking for does not depend on the existence of a lover. We all struggle to find something to hang on to, and for some, love is the closest they are going to get. I can think of something that happened today that was very meaningful to me, even more so than finding love with a woman. I was walking up the the street in the ghetto of York Pennsylvania, and I witnessed a crack deal. I tried to divert my attention, but then the dealer asked me if I wanted any. I said “no thanks” and kept walking. That was a triumph today, something of which I add to my spiritual toolbox as being the first encounter with one of my favorite drugs since going into institutionalization for a year and a half. Crack cocaine was not something that I used to do everyday, but when I was partying with mr brownstone or drinking heavily, I always seemed to end up in a room with old black men smoking the shit. It doesn’t really make you feel well, since you start craving more the moment you light the stem. There is an old skinny white man that I smoked with. He gets 800 dollars from social security a month. Four hundred goes to rent, four hundred goes to crack, and when he runs out of money, he collects aluminum cans and trades them in for a dollar or so, just so he can get another hit. His whole life revolves around crack. But, listen, if you have never smoked it, then you can only understand the need for water or food after a week of starvation, which most people have never had to do. Crack addiction replaces any giving of a shit what you put in your body, or lack there of.
A long time ago there was peace in my life, when I did not even know that illicit drugs existed, so there was no temptation, especially with my natural dopamine being produced for accomplishments such as hitting a home run in baseball, or acing a test. Now, my brains reserves have been depleted, but I still accept life on life’s terms, and the reason I am where I am today is for a very good reason. I live in a group home with people who all seem to have borderline intelligence, and although I am probably the smartest person here, does not mean I haven’t made some dumb as choices. My roommate is cool, at least.