The Rabbit Habit

Once upon a cracked-out time, your’s truly hopped up the bunny trail that was a steep Capitol Hill street near my friend’s apartment. I swayed and sashayed as I had been awake for days.  I noticed something miraculous on the small grassy patch near the building’s steps.

Three fat, round white rabbits lay sleeping in the wee hours of the morning!  From where I was walking they looked like plump lop eared bunnies straight out of some Easter special. So imagine my surprise when I got closer and I realized they weren’t rabbits at all. It was three garbage-stuffed, white plastic grocery bags with their handles tied together. And thus began the ending of my relationship with crystal meth.

I had what I wistfully like to refer to as my summer of meth. Like the summer of love or the summer of 69. But with crank bought from sketchy dudes at all night bowling alleys. It was actually probably closer to two summers but who’s to say because when you’re using crystal meth everything seems to last a lot longer than it should. It’s hard to fathom that I had a relationship with crystal meth in the first place. I mean, me of the daily long naps and the intricately delicious meals was somehow dragged into a world of zero sleep and no food? How was it possible? Oh because I’m an addict that’s right. More proof positive that crystal meth was bad news for me is while high on that drug I favored smoking menthol cigarettes and drinking gin and tonics. What. The. Hell.  When the most white trash drug in the world can turn me into an old black lady, things are not okay. That whole lifestyle was so hilariously awful that it is truly befuddling. The best part about meth, because there are so many wonderful things, was the that while using it I could drink even more without getting messy. But when my little crystal crew all became paranoid and some of us stopped talking to one another and then I saw the not bunnies, I decided to get out while I could.

It popped up in my life in Los Angeles here and there but amazingly I learned my lesson. Or learned there were drugs I liked more. Like booze. I guess I’m grateful for the rabbit apparition. I’ve met hundreds of people in the program whose lives have been destroyed by that drug and it is no joke. I somehow escaped it’s death grip and that’s pretty miraculous.

2 thoughts on “The Rabbit Habit

  1. Holy shit. That paragraph that leads to the statement about crystal was like… coming home. I was like, affected.

    I don’t mean I’m a icehead or jonesing junkie (anymore). Your words there just work and I’m sure not everyone would believe me. Probably only who write our brand of narco-meta-fiction, and our equally awesome audience understand. That’s totally fine with me.

    • Hey thanks a lot! Yeah sometimes my ego is like “don’t write the low down dirty parts and only write the shiny happy stuff where you got better.” But really it’s the truth that’s hilarious and entertaining and touching. So even though I cringe when I think about stuff like that writing about it feels liberating and I’m glad you felt something too. – Sean

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