It had been months since I had to deal with screaming and yelling and cops at the house. These things were still happening but I was no longer stuck in the middle of it all.
Joe and I had started to just retreat to our apartment when things at Tom and Staceys would get out of control. We would spend so much of our time just sitting in the living room passing our drugs back and forth and just living day to day not worrying about much other than who was hitting up the dope house and when.
I was content in this bubble I had found. I had my drugs and a place to live and at the point, I didn’t need much more than that. It wasn’t always just us. His friends would come by from time to time as would Becca. I would even venture to her place from time to time.
Joe had this friend Steve, who quickly became a regular at the house. He was a great guy who had a girlfriend and a son a full-time job the whole nine. To look at him you would never know he spent his nights in rooms full of drugs consuming all he could.
He was a lot like Joe always sharing what he had with the people around him. He was easy to talk to and fun to chill with. One of those people that could handle his drugs so having him around was more fun than drama and that was the way I liked it.
We quickly added Becca to our regular daily mix. We would spend most nights sitting in the living room of the apartment watching movies and sharing drugs. Everything seemed perfect and we had little to complain about. Things would go this way for a while before the chaos returned to our little circle.
“Addictions … started out like magical pets, pocket monsters. They did extraordinary tricks, showed you things you hadn’t seen, were fun. But came, through some gradual dire alchemy, to make decisions for you. Eventually, they were making your most crucial life-decisions. And they were … less intelligent than goldfish.” -William Gibson
