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February 12th, 2009

Rex, The Mad Russian’s dog, is staying at my house for a little while. I talked to The Mad Russian for a while after the park meeting about his wife. She’s using. He’s in such denial, I couldn’t believe it. He thinks it’s her medication, her Seroquel. I grabbed him by the shoulders, “Dude, your wife is nodding out and burning holes in the couch. She’s using. Clean people don’t nod out with lit cigarettes.” He laughed and said, “I know, I know, you’re right.” I guess that what love does, blinds you. 

I tortured my parents over the past few years and it sucks thinking about it. It’s taken me this long to even see a little of it. You don’t realize how much you put your parents through until you’re on the other side. James’ parents called me asking why their son can’t stay clean. Seeing Jamaica’s mom at the funeral… My parents sent me to boarding school in hopes of it “straightening me out,” but a disease can’t be straightened out. I went to boarding school and I took my disease with me, and it progressed there, too. I looked good on the outside. The outside was all I ever knew. I was working out a few days out the week, I went running every once in a while. I thought I had it under control. Below is me in ninth grade at Florida Air Academy in 2005 at 14 years old.

Person in tank top and beret posing in dimly lit room with wooden walls and ladder.

Every two weeks, they’d let me go home on pass. My mom would come pick me up from Melbourne when they couldn’t afford for me to take the Greyhound. My mom would always come get me without hesitation, driving three hours there and three hours back. The only reason I wanted to come back home all the time was because I knew I’d be getting coke to bring back. The day before I was supposed to go back to school, I’d get an 8ball or a quarter to bring with me. I’d do a few lines before I got in the car with her, keeping the coke in my sock. I’d be fiending to get out of the car at one of gas stations so I can do a few more bumps. My heart racing in the car, scared my nose will be dripping. My mom never noticed back then. I never thought of myself of being addicted to coke, but looking back I can tell I was. I was having vivid drug dreams when I was doing it and I could only go maybe a few weeks without doing it. Boarding school is where I found opiates.

I was skeeted out of my mind one night. I had like 12 grams of coke that I brought back and I did almost a third of it the first night and it was only Monday. I knew I had to go to sleep or I would end up doing it all that night. Everyone was getting ready for bed, the showers were going off and on, people running down the hall whipping each other with towels, kids playing Xbox in their rooms, people watching movies. I was doing coke in my bunk for the last three hours. I knew just who to ask for something to go to sleep. Eric Calloway . He was this big nerdy kid who loved computers, who worked out a lot but ate a lot, too. He roomed with all these other dorks, but cool dorks, not the faggot dorks that would snitch and shit. His dorm was always super dark, everyone on their laptops playing Warcraft. Calloway always had pills, and I would usually trade him a dub of coke for some valiums and Xanax. I went over to his room. The lights were off and everyone was playing World of Warcraft and Calloway was reading some forum about some workout routine called Dog Shit. I was so coked out of my mind, he started laughing as soon as he saw me. I leaned down by his desk, “I need something to go to sleep, I did too much.” He pulled out this metal Altoids case,“ I can give you some of these.” 

I had found opiates. 

Calloway gave me an Oxy 40 and two Roxy 30s. He told me to do half the Oxy or half of one of the Roxys, I said, “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure,“ and crushed them all up as soon as I got to my bunk and snorted them all in three different lines. 

I thought it’d put me straight to sleep, but instead I talked all night on the phone to some girl, talk, talk, talk, talk, talkity talk talk, itching my face and before I knew it, the sun was up. My stomach was aching and I knew I had to eat something. I usually skip breakfast but I ran downstairs, got in formation and waited for my breakfast. I pounded down some eggs, sausage and tater tots with two huge glasses of milk. I felt better for a second, but as soon as I was done it all came back up, right onto my tray. It was so crazy, I was sitting at a crowded table and no one even noticed. I puked it up all perfectly fitting on my tray. Then this one kid looked over at me, “Whoa, what the fuck?” I threw away my tray and crawled back into bed. I couldn’t stop throwing up. I told Major John I had a stomach virus and I got sent to the infirmary. I used to cut up some of my coke and keep it in a book. No bag or nothing. Just poured it out flat in a book, closed it shut and I would stack them flat on my desk. I kept a few grams like that and kept the rest of it in my desktop computer. I'd slide the side of my computer open and keep it on a ledge in there. Frenchy came to see me in the infirmary. He never really did drugs, but loved that I did. He thought it was so funny how sick I was. “Ahhaha, Alzate, you look like fucking shit.”

I told him to bring me one of the books and to walk with it flat, don’t open it, don’t tilt it. He brought me the book and I’d blow lines and sit in bed. The nurses thought he was so nice for bringing me my book, those dumb bastards. They kept thinking I was faking because I hadn’t puked since I’ve been in there, but I knew if I didn’t stay laying down I’d throw up again. They had some mandatory meeting in the Hall of Flags that night. The nurse made me get out of bed. I went to the Hall of Flags, got in formation and the president of the school was giving some speech. There was a principle and a president; the president only came once every two months and here he was in the middle of the night. A few minutes into the speech, I felt my stomach turning and I hurled exorcist-style all over the floor. The entire school was there, in formation. Everyone started backing up and circled around me. I vomited three times, I could see little bits of coke in my puke and then I puked some more and a big slab of ham flopped on the floor. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, “Not so fast, Bryan! What’s the big hurry? Chew your food!” I never chew my food when I eat. Major John came up and walked me back to the infirmary. I thought I was going to get kicked out of school. I thought everyone knew I was still fucked up off the pills I snorted and the coke I had been doing, but in the infirmary, Major John called my parents and told them that I had a stomach virus and that it had been going around. I thought it was hilarious and ate up all the pity I got from my parents.

I look at the ninth graders at my school and I just want to punch them in the face.

Stoop isn’t picking up my calls, I think he’s getting high. 

I’m pretty sure Amy is, too.

I think I’m going to fuck this girl Megan today. Ehh, she’s okay.

I told my teacher I wasn’t feeling good,. She wrote me up a pass and now I’m in the auditorium watching the kids set up this Mr. Western shit thing. I don’t know what Mr. Western is, but everyone in school is making posters and t-shirts and all this other gay shit and they are setting up all their crap all over the auditorium.