a substance  abuse therapist at one of the many rehabs i've been to told me that i was addicted not only to drugs, but also to the chase. i asked her to explain what she meant by that comment and she simply said, " you will find out, you are not ready to confront this observation yet." at that time i was 20 years old and i wasn't done researching my drug use so she was right by telling me that.

i was an insatiable drug  addict. i was a thieve. i was a crafty manipulater and always seemed to get what i needed to get high. during one of my long running crack binges, i stole $2,500 from an employer- an aa friend of mine- to fuel my habit. he found out the money was missing and i helped him look for it! that was the pinnacle of my addiction. i usually blew my whole paycheck for drugs and ended up broke for the rest of the week. my drug induced mentality rationized that the money i stole would allow me to pay my rent, buy food, ect. and i saw nothing wrong with it. after all my boss/friend made his living by over charging and cheating customers so i thought 'pay back is a bitch.'

being a crack smoker comes with considerable risk. often i would have to go into hartford's worst nieghborhoods to meet my dealer. if he wasn't around i would have to go on 'patrol' looking for it. crack is on just about every corner in the city but you risk getting robbed. it happened to me once when a dealer who could not believe i was in a section of the city where only residents bought, put a gun to my head and took the $100 i had. i actually got a rush from that and simply went and got more money and found some crack somewhere else.

towards the end of my crack smoking days i became kind of close to one dealer. he was a good kid, i mean as good as you can be selling narcotics, who happend to sell crack and heroin so he could put himself through college. he lived in a risky part of town but i did not mind going there because i thought it was fun to put myself in danger in order to get crack. the more sketchy the 'hood' the better my high was.

i would get off from work [ the same job that i stole from ] around 4:00 in the afternoon and the first thing i did was contact my dealer so could get some right away. i would get that rush on my way to see him anticipating that first hit.i have to say that in the 18 years on and off that i smoked crack, i saw some messed up things. none of it seemed to bother me as long as i got what i was looking for. i was arrested in 1996 right after i purchesd  $60 worth of crack. i was drunk as well and i had a small amount of marijuana on me. some how the police did not find the crack but they arrested me for the pot and took me to lock up. they also towed my car. the next morning i was released and walked 4 miles to the tow yard. i only had enough money to pay for my car so instead of taking a city bus i chose to walk. after all there was a nice chunk of crack wating for me and i could not get there fast enough.

it has been 5 years since i smoked that crap and what that therapist said never meant anything to me. as i look back on the wasted years the statement she made was right on piont. when ever i have to go to or travel through hartford i start to shake and i feel sick to my stomach. it's a good thing because my love of the chase has turned to fear and it is that fear that keeps me away from crack.

i guess what i was trying to express in this blog was that the thrill of going into the 'hood' to find crack was just as addicting because the risk seemed thrilling. finding crack and looking for it went hand and hand. sometimes i would go out and would'nt find anything. the disappiontment was similar to running out of crack and not having anymore money to get more.

it haunts me that i look back on those years and sometimes i miss the thrill of searching finding what i was looking for. i had a mission to accomplish and it was rewarding to succeed. i'm in no way advocating the use of crack or any other drug of abuse. i just wanted to recognize the grip cocaine had on me. i had put my life through hell, and more importantly, my parents.. they still never let me forget what i did and neither does my girlfriend. it is good that people keep reminding me because it keeps things real and also keeps the fear of returning to that life fresh in my mind.

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