im just emailing this to myself in a very ghetto fashion
The first time i ever touched the stuff I had snuck out of my room after my mom tucked me in. I left to meet my brothers down at the tennis courts down the street. It was the most nervous moment of my life. I can remember my palms were so sweaty that I kept dropping it. When my brother first saw me with it his face went completely furious, but then a slow smile came across his face. It's about time you got into it, the addiction does run in the family. My face must have been very puzzled, being as i was very young at the time and had no concept of addiction or dependance. I remember falling a lot. laughing uncontrollably, probably making noises one would hear passing the looney bin. In an instant, I was hooked. hopelessly addicted to that amazing feeling I had never felt before, hooked to most exhilirating high on the entire planet. I came back to that spot every night for 3 years before I got busted. They had to use zip ties because my wrists were too small to fit in the cuffs. I had to stand on a stool to have my mugshot taken.I slept on a cold concrete floor under a bench in a cell for six hours until my mother came. they refused to give it back to me and i couldn't comprehend why. the next six months were cold and black. community service and withdrawl were my life. finally summer had arrived and I went to stay with my father for a few weeks. he did not know about my addiction, so he was easy to use to get what i needed.