I had a really painful break up a year ago. We were high school sweethearts and stuck together for 6 years almost, I was really torn apart emotionally and psychologically after everything unraveled. After couch hopping for a few months I had a breakdown sold all of my shit f4and moved to a nice little college town. After a few really great weeks of trying out a new me I started hanging out with my new friends from the little pizza joint, which turned to partying with weed, then coke, and ended up smoking alot of crack and doing other drugs like LSD and MDA after previously having lived the Dave Chapelle mentality (I don't do drugs, only weed)

I ended up with a pretty nasty coke/crack habit and was drinking by the rack by time my wonderful little summer adventure ended. Someone stole a generator from work, and with me being the new guy in a restaurant full of coke heads who have known each other their entire lives, I was put on the chopping block with no evidence at all. Legally I was in the clear, I visited the police on my own and gave them any information I had, and the police informed me that I was a person of interest there was no proof provided other than the word of people who weren't speaking very highly of me as it was.

Now, I had lost my job which was the only thing keeping me from being on the streets in a very quaint little town with a zero vagrant tolerance. I slept in a tiny concrete cellar/ditch under a dormatory for two weeks (Dry and warm due to vents) and had nowhere to go, the weather was getting colder and I was running out of options. The last thing I wanted to do was run backto my hometown with my tail between my legs, everyone was so hopeful for me and they had no idea what I had gotten myself in to because I was too proud to admit that I was acting purposely in such a self destructive, loathing way.

This is the thing about crack: you feel it as soon as it is inside of you. Immediately you are flooded with one of the most amazing sensation, like a million little tongues are lapping at every neuron in your brain. This feeling intensifies by a hundred for every second you hold it in. In this moment, the most important thing to you, the best event that's ever been blessed in your hands is this smoke absorbing in to the lining of your throat and lungs. As you exhale, your mind is occupied by it. How much there is, the taste etc... By the time this thought process is completed, the smoke is out of your lungs and in the air, and so is that feeling of brain sex... You are high sure, but you want that Bell ringing in your ear, the "next" hit that'll send your arms up to your chest like a T-Rex And you might get it! Go ahead and try. But you will keep wanting it, and eventually you won't get it. Either you ran out of crack, money, or your brain is so doped up that it is just making you some fucked up looney character. This brings me to my next point:

The come down is the absolute worst. You feel like fucking absolutely bloody shit in a urinal. Your body hurts, but your brain is pretty much slapping you, saying "hey you fucking rock head take another hit and you will be fine duh" and You'll feel this way for hours, sleep will be fucking terrible if you actually get it unless you have benzos.

Your brain will trick you. You will lie to yourself so well, that it's hilarious in a really dark way. I'd get 60 in tips one night, and convince myself it's extra money (it's not) And I earned (did not) some fun with a gram of cocaine. I know I can't smoke crack every night but I got an itch, some "soft" should keep me doing OK and not feeling like absolute shit. Next thing I know me and my room mate are fighting over who gets the last hit at 4 am and my bank account is empty.

Eventually, hopefully you will try to recover. Being addicted to drugs is not hard. Being an addict is so easy that you won't even see it happen. The hardest is trying to give it up.

I moved back home with my mom. She offered a couch and warmth during the winter, after which i have to make plans. I broke down and told her what was going on with me because I was scared. It was a good decision, and I work really hard to try to take care of myself in the time I've been allotted. I work at a local car seat assembly factory, 8 hours a day, 7 days a week (3rd shift, to keep me out of trouble at night)

Every single day I've felt the urge at least once that I know as a coke hunger, it's so peculiar and frustrating at the same time. I feel it almost the same way my brain wants a cigarette after not having one for a couple of hours due to being at work/etc.i felt absolutely miserable for the first weeks when it was strong. A couple of short months later and its still a awful feeling. I feel frustrated and upset because I don't want to give in to the urge, I used to be a good if so a little damaged person before drugs and I want that for myself again. I'm afraid of having to fight this urge for a long time but I'm gonna give it everything I got.

There will probably be haters or whatever, .I'm still pretty young and when I saw this thread and typed this out it makes me even happier that I'm doing what I can to come through OK.