DOSE:	repeated	oral	Oxycodone	(pill / tablet)
	repeated	insufflated	Oxycodone	(ground / crushed)
	repeated		Heroin

BODY WEIGHT:

135 lb

In high school, I was top shit (well, in the eyes of a parent). I was a huge nerd, took all Honors/AP classes, got full scholarships to virtually every school I applied to, and life was just great. One thing I was most proud of in life was the fact I never used drugs. Not even pot. I was never around them, so I just never had any desire to. When high school was coming to an end in 2004, I had one of the biggest decisions to make. Which school do I go to? At the time, I really didn't think it was a big deal, but my decision ultimately screwed me in life.

I knew a certain girl since I was a sophomore. She was a freshman, and she was just the most wonderful person ever. We had everything in common, she was gorgeous, and I just wanted to be with her so bad. Finally, right before graduation, the most wonderful relationship started between this scrawny white boy, and gorgeous Trinidadian (she's from Trinidad in the Caribbean). I gave up a myriad of full academic scholarships just so I could stay with her. She told me about her ex-boyfriend going down to Florida for college (where I just happened to want to go, too), and I just didn't want to be like that. I didn't want to put her through that again, you know? Well, I stayed home to pursue Electrical Engineering at a college I never wanted to go to. It was all for her. I figured we'd both stay home, and everything would be fine. Well, I was wrong.

My first year of college saw me hanging out with kids I didn't really ever hang out with in high school. All my nerdy friends went off to every prestigious university you could think of. I was alone, and nobody likes that. I ended up getting into the drug scene. Like most people, it was just pot, shrooms, and pills. If it fucked me up, I was gonna use it. I didn't give two shits about school, really. I cared about my girl, but I really didn't show her the appreciation she deserved. She wasn't a drug user, and it didn't seem to bother her that I did use. Keyword, seem.

Before I say what happens next, I just want you all to know what I'm about to tell you is the worst thing I've ever done, and is something I've never done in the past. I'm not this kind of person, and everything I did, I regret more than anything, and wish I could take back.

In April of 2005, my girlfriend’s father had arm surgery. He was prescribed 90 Oxy 20's, and 90 Percocet 7.5's for pain. He's a smart guy, and knew that they were addicting, so he just had the scrips of them sitting around, and just used Advil, and stuff, for pain. My girlfriend was prescribed vicodin for her wisdom teeth getting pulled out, so she knew about pills/opiates. She liked the light buzz she got from 2 vicodins, and she knew how strong Oxy's were. She bragged about them to me, and me (at the time) being all about drugs, wanted them, oh so bad. I lied to my girlfriend. I wasn't a drug dealer, but I told her that I could make a good 15 - 20 bucks per pill on the Oxy's. She gave me two to get rid of, and I honestly had the intention of selling one of them, and using the other for myself. Worst mistake ever.

That night, I went into my bathroom, crushed one up, and snorted it. I knew that's how most people did it, but little did I know how intense this little orange pill was. I felt amazing. I loved the feeling it gave me, and just knew it was my favorite drug, hands down. I smoked some weed on top of it, and holy shit, it's even better! A couple hours later, I crushed up the other, snorted that thing. Oh God, I felt like I was in heaven. It was so amazing.

This was the start of me becoming a junkie. Every once in a while, I would go into my girlfriends fathers bathroom, and yank a couple. I moderated myself to only 1 or 2 pills every time I did it. Looking back, I don't know how I did that. I don't know how a script of 90 pills lasted me a whole summer. I did have that fear in me that I could OD on oxy very easily, and that fear kept me from experimenting with more.

Over the course of that summer, I was getting free oxy any time I wanted, and it was great. My girlfriend's family invited me to go visit Trinidad with them, and so I went. The night before I went down, they called me and said they forgot some shit. For a couple weeks, I couldn't find the OC. I didn't really give a shit, seeing as I wasn't a full blown addict. I was moderating (how, I don't know), so being without it didn't give me all the bad withdrawals. However, when I was getting the stuff they forgot, I went into their bathroom, and there were two beautiful bottles of pills. I yanked a few of the oxy's. One for that night, and some for my trip to Trinidad. On my way home from getting the stuff they needed me to get, I needed to think of a way to get the pills down to Trinidad with me. I'm a very paranoid person, and didn't want to get busted. I decided that since the OC's were around the size of a Cert breath mint, I'd just get a pack of those, put them in there, and easily let them get on the plane with me. This, looking back, was the start of me actually abusing oxy.

Before going to the airport, I took an oxy. I was nervous about taking them on the plane, and while I was feeling a little less nervous, I wasn't entirely calm. I chewed up another. This didn't do the trick. I just said, 'I'm not gonna get busted. Fuck it.' I ate all 8 of them (chewed them) (could snort them, since I didn't have a place to do it). I went through everything, and got to my gate to get on my plane. I was listening to my iPod, and I was fucking fucked up. Holy shit. I honestly probably should have died had I not developed a gradual tolerance over the last couple months. Between my flight, I just kept nodding off. I really don't remember much of that flight, nor waiting for my connecting flight from NJ to Trinidad. I was fucking messed up beyond belief. I now knew I could handle more, and I loved the feeling more oxy gave me.

Trinidad came and went, and it was amazing. Again, somehow I didn't have any withdrawals while I was there. However, I knew when I got back, I was gonna get fucked up on more oxy. I wasn't going to do as much as I did when I was on the plane (because that was just retarded), but I was gonna start using 40 - 60 now instead of 20 - 40 mg. I kept doing it the rest of the summer (about a month), unaware that I was developing an addiction. I was doing it all the time, and everything was great because I always had my oxy. However, early on in September, before the Ohio State/Texas game, I finished the last of my oxy.

'Oh well,' I thought 'it was fun while it lasted.' At this point, I was addicted, and didn't even know it. A few days passed, and I felt like shit. I really didn't know why I felt so bad. I really thought about it, and I put two and two together, and realized I needed some oxy. I went to my local pool hall where I played cards, and found a guy that dealt them. 50 fucking dollars for an 80 mg pill. At the time, I handed him 150 bucks, no problem.

'3 pills,' I thought, 'this'll last me a good while.' It didn't. They were gone in a day and a half. I was using more and more often then I did when I had access to them for free. I started playing poker more to support my oxy habit. It worked. I was getting an 80 virtually every day or two. My life was changing. Everyone was noticing a change in me, except me. My life was controlled by oxy. No drug scared me. Now, drugs just controlled me. I always had to be fucked up. However, 90% of the time, it was oxy.

When I couldn't get oxy, I was usually using heroin. I was a full blown drug addict. My girlfriend went to school, leaving me back at home. Our relationship was still fine, and I made it a point not to use in front of her. Every weekend I would drive up to see her, and I stuck to the 'no using in front of her'. I did it a couple times, but I gave her no indication that I was addicted.

After a few weeks, all I did was talk about drugs. As I said before, drugs controlled me. I didn't even notice it, but all I did was talk about drugs to her. Her not really being into drugs was starting to get annoyed. I finished school a good few weeks before her (my grades, somehow didn't suffer. For I had a 3.5 GPA), but my life was just a wreck. She started seeming distant from me, and I just didn't know what was up. I decided I needed to quit, but it was almost too late. Every weekend I'd see her, I'd be going through withdrawals because I wasn't doing oxy around her. She didn't know. Nobody did, really. Only the guy that supplied them to me. I was a different guy around her. I never had money, I was always broke, I just wasn't who I was before, you know? It was like my body was there, but I wasn't.

In November, I took my last Oxycontin. I ate an 80 mg pill, and snorted another. I went home and kinda reflected. I decided this wasn't what I wanted in life. I was sick of this shit, and I was done. I decided to quit cold turkey. A couple days later, withdrawals kicked in. My girlfriend came over to see me, and she wanted a break. I finally admitted everything to her, and told her I needed help. While I was telling her, I was sweating profusely, sick as hell, vomiting, headache, cramps, dehydrated...just in terrible shape. I needed medical attention. I told her to call my parents, and I asked to be checked into a hospital for rehab (when I got to the hospital, I had heroin, oxy, cocaine, xanax, thc, and pcp all in my system).

When I got to the hospital, I was 100% dehydrated, and in some of the worst pain I could imagine. The girl I loved left me, I had a drug problem, I was going through serious withdrawals; I just wanted to die. I went through detox (which was very painful), and everybody stayed by my side. My girlfriend still wanted a break, but how could I blame her? She was shocked. She had no idea, and I was keeping it from her the whole time. With time, I proved to her I was serious. I decided that I needed to abstain from all drugs, not just what I had a problem with, and she saw that I was back, and is now giving me a second chance. I'm not going to fuck this one up. Oxycontin ruined my life. It gave me the best feelings on Earth, but managed to ruin my life. How I never got busted, killed, or whatever is beyond me. Why my girlfriend took me back, I don't know. The last 3 months of my using should have killed me. Should have put me in jail, should have made me do something really stupid, but it didn't. I fucked up, and I have been given a second chance.

What I'm really trying to say is stories like these are all too common, and most people aren't as lucky as I have been. I've been clean a month and a half (Which doesn't seem like a lot, but it really is), and I haven't felt better. As I've said before, I've been off it for a month and a half, and I can't stop thinking about it. The days aren't so bad, but every night, all I dream about is oxy. I can't sleep, I wake up in horrible night sweats. I haven't been as happy as I am now since before I started using drugs. I honestly thought I would start using drugs, just recreationally, eventually, but now, after being clean for a month and a half, I really don't want to.

I know drugs aren't for me. I want to start volunteering to help keep people from going through what I did. I need to get a few years being sober under my belt, but I'm going to try to spread my message however I can. I'm not even going to smoke pot, because for me, it was a gateway drug, and it will put me in the position I was in just a couple months ago. I feel like the luckiest guy on earth to have been given a second chance, and this is an opportunity I'm not going to fuck up.

Exp Year: 2005	ExpID: 49521
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Jun 25, 2007	Views: 32,002
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Oxycodone (176) : Retrospective / Summary (11), Post Trip Problems (8), Relationships (44), Addiction & Habituation (10), Various (28)