Cocaine Addiction

Tick tick tick tick tick… Plastic credit card against hard surface – up the nose… All smiles.

Snorting cocaine’s a bit like shooting yourself in the head, with a much smaller barrel and your own breath providing the momentum. The shot goes straight to the brain, literally, but unlike a bullet it makes you feel amazing.

My nose burns the way I like it. The three powder-lines left on the bathroom granite call my name but I know I’d better not. Keli snorts the next line and her head quivers the way it always does; a quick, almost imperceptible jolt that most people wouldn’t see, the bullet striking home.

Sandra takes the next one and her eyes glaze for a few seconds as she stares at her reflection in the mirror, her hand rubbing softly at her nose. “Just rub it in circles,” says Keli. She knows that a persons’ first time can be a bit uncomfortable. I’m surprised she remembers her first time with it being so long ago.

Keli and Sandra look at each other: “Fuck them all!” they shriek in unison. The three of us jauntily take our leave of the now stifling bathroom, each grinning like the village idiot. With cocaine playing its wonderful game on our dopamine receptors, it’s going to be very difficult to put us down tonight.

We head to the dance floor, and Keli has spotted something she likes. I lose sight of her roundabout approach towards mister whoever because I’ve seen something I like too. At the centre of the dance floor is a girl and we lock eyes. She’s blonde and very pretty and her smile is inviting. We do that awkward dance floor shuffle, maneuvering through the swaying crowd, tripping over feet and bumping into legs whilst trying to maintain an element of finesse. Next we’re dancing together, my hands on her hips and hers round my neck. It’s like living in TiVo, the same story again and again. I chase the same notion of love every night, almost always succeeding in finding someone to pretend to have something in common with and take home, to distract myself from the fact that my relationships are as emotional as the inside of an empty operating theatre, and that I chase after anything I can that’ll help me forget that fact.

I find out her name is Nicola, and the night continues with drinks at my place. A few covert trips to the bathroom to top up and we’re on our way – same old same old.

I know the morning’s going to be bad because of the light. It cuts into my psyche like a surgeons’ scalpel through flesh, and that’s just the light. The inside of my fragile mind feels broken, and the world looks terrifying threatening. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with Nicole.

Thankfully she’s one of those ones; pragmatic. She’s picked up her stuff and is nowhere to be seen. Probably woke up next to my scrawny frame and decided to scram. Fucking slut, but at least I don’t have to deal with her today.

And so it goes. I’ll have a few glasses of water and get through the day. At least I don’t have to chug three espressos and get to work, thank god for the holidays. Tonight will likely be the same as last, and tomorrow the same as today, just a little gloomier.

But for a few hours tonight it’ll all be great again, just wish someone would draw that fucking curtain closed.