Cocaine - Tumblr Posts
There's always a lot of joking around about how Coke used to have actual cocaine in it but I don't feel like anyone pays enough attention to the fact that 7-Up had lithium in it until 1948 and honestly I think we'd do better to put that back.
DMT saved my life. If you're going through turmoil of any nature and you're thinking about trying DMT or ayahuasca this is just my endorsement for whatever it's worth. I'd be dead or in prison if it wasn't for trying DMT. I'm making this post and I will continue to make a similar post at least once a year just in case it helps anyone. I had a lot of issues but one of the biggest ones was that I was addicted to heroin. I literally couldn't go a day without it for years....one day I couldn't get it and someone gave me DMT saying it would help. It was 3:33 in the morning when I took that inhale alone in my bedroom later that night. I was desperate and honestly didn't think it was going to do much. That was 5 years ago, now. My whole life changed. I stopped using hard drugs literally instantly. It felt like my brain had been reprogrammed and improved. Keep in mind I haven't mentioned anything about the experience. I won't because it's just too much but ill say this: it lasted a matter of minutes, it was the most intense experience of my life, and afterwards I thought about it and personally prayed for 2 hours straight in awe of how much I had learned and experienced in such a short yet unmeasurable amount of time. If you're afraid of the experience, all I can say is it's worth it.
cocaine in my heart
i am young and arrogant and full of cocaine and warlock cum
"Girls are not machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out."
David Bowie: Kid Sister
Imagine living with your older brother, David Bowie, but running away when he chooses drugs over you:
Being David Bowie's younger sister is hard enough, but having to watch him destroy his life is near impossible.
He and I have quite the age difference, he's currently 27, whilst I am only 15, but he has taken on the role of both father and big brother. When he first took me in I was 11 and he was only 23, he had wanted to stop by and surprise us with a visit after being so busy with his latest album.
It's a long story how he ended up my legal guardian, but let's just say he walked in on our mother berating me, and witnessed her slapping me across the cheek. Needless to say, he was not pleased in the slightest and demanded a reason be given as to why I was slapped. Our mother gave no answer, instead only glaring at me with an even darker hatred than before.
She took a step towards me and I don't know what came over me, but I sprinted around her and into David, crying my eyes out as I hid behind him. I remember my small hands grasping the material of his sleeves, just wanting some feeling of love and acceptance. He seemed stunned, taking a few seconds to react to this; leaning down, he handed me his keys, telling me in a soft voice to go wait in his car. I nodded and went to open the front door when our mother decided to intervene.
"Not another step young lady." I froze in place, this was the harsh tone she used when I knew I was going to be punished and tormented for the rest of the week. Usually she doesn't do more than slap me, but with tone she doesn't hesitate to bring out the belt. I was so close to the door, but the fear that burned in my chest made me want to throw up. I wanted to get away, but what would happen to me if I took another step?
No one made any move, but I knew that this might be my only chance. Taking another step I hesitantly looked over my shoulder towards my mother. She was furious, I could almost say for certain that there was a red gleam in her eyes. She starts walking towards me, but before she can reach me, David moves between us.
"Get out of the way, David." Her tone is sharp, I'm surprised when David makes no movement in response, simply settling a glare upon her.
"She's coming with me and that is final." His sentence is almost growled out, and I can tell mother is just as taken aback as I am, stepping back slightly as her facial expression morphs into one of shock. Not another word is spoken as David turns, grabbing my shoulder as he walks us out of the front door and to his car.
The ride is a blur, I can't find myself focusing on anything other than the bleary stereo and the gray skies. I only come back to reality when he pulls up in-front of a fancy hotel, handing his keys to the valet before helping me out of the car. I glanced around in surprise, he's taken us to the nice side of town, everyone is wearing their nice clothes that I would usually only wear on Sunday for church. David releases a quiet giggle at seeing my look of awe, patting my shoulder as he leads me into the hotel.
I stay silent through the process, making sure to stay directly on David's side as he gets the room key and walks us into the elevator. David leans back against the wall and watches the numbers, but I take this time to observe him; after all, I haven't seen him in quite a while. He's grown his hair out a bit, longer than the last time I saw him, and his face looked almost angry even though it was neutral. Walking to our room he sits me down on the bed, sitting himself next to me with his hands folded in his lap; he seems hesitant, but I know why.
"Just ask me already." My voice is quiet, I cast my gaze downwards as I hear David swallow heavily.
"How long has she been treating you like that?" His question is spoken carefully, almost as though worried that I might break if he didn't pick every word precisely. I feel a small smile trying to form, it's odd, having someone be so gentle with me, especially after the years I've spent with my mother.
"... Ever since dad died." I didn't want to tell him why, mainly because our father's death hurt him a lot as well, but he was already out of the house when that happened; not having to deal with our mother during the aftermath. I don't blame him, in fact, I never wanted him to know, I hate being such a burden.
"Well, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise." His tone is a stark contrast to earlier, being stern and certain; not harsh, but strong and confident. I look to the side, meeting his gaze before pushing forward and hugging him tightly. His body goes rigid, clearly being surprised, but slowly steadying as he envelopes my weak form with his arms.
_______
Ever since that day, I lived with my brother, traveled with him, helped him with his music, etc. We shared a life in a way, but he always made sure that my education came first, hiring me private tutors everywhere we went. I had so much fun, being raised by him was much different than being raised by our mother. David was kind and gentle, only really getting stern when I blatantly went against our agreed upon rules; such as that one time I snuck out of our hotel and went backstage to one of his concerts.
Oh, he was pissed, we got into a bit of a row before stomping off in opposite directions. We avoided each other for the rest of the night and the following day, only talking during a midnight snack run-in. I apologized, I knew it was dangerous to sneak out to a concert where I might be recognized and swarmed by fans. I also told him my reasoning, having not seen him for more than a couple of minutes over the last few months due to the concerts and rehearsals, exclaiming that I just wanted to see him.
David also apologized for yelling at me, he hates yelling and felt really bad, to which I made sure he knew it was alright. He promised to try and spend more time with me, taking time out of the next day for us to go get lunch and ice cream.
We had a lot of fun, but we ended the night running away from a crowd of fans. One of them had managed to grab his sleeves, resulting in him losing his coat. I laughed at first until we finally got away. I observed his hunched over body as we heaved for breath, he was much skinnier than I thought. I hadn't really been paying attention, but I can tell when someone is underweight, and he kind of reminded me of a skeleton.
That was when I started to pay more attention to him, noticing how he'd been more withdrawn recently, spending most of his time reading or in his room. I noticed that he often sniffled, I thought he had a cold, but something about it struck me as odd. I continued watching over him for the next year or so, noticing that he never lost the sniffles for long, they would usually return after a prolonged trip to the bathroom. He also stopped eating a lot, he used to love my occasional cooking and our random jaunts to restaurants, but that all suddenly stopped.
I finally said 'fuck his privacy', searching through his bags after he'd gone to sleep. I found a bag full of white powder, and I'm no idiot, this isn't fucking flour, it's cocaine. All the signs I've noticed now make sense, but that really does fuck all for me. What can I do now? I can't tell him I know, cause then he'll ask how I know. I just need to make sure he doesn't kill himself by accident.
_______
I softly knocked on David's door. He has an interview soon, yet he hasn't left his room all day. I'm really worried about him.
"What do you want!" His voice is rough and sharp, I jump slightly. He's recently taken to shouting at me whenever I do anything, and it scares the living daylights out of me; I know I shouldn't be scared of him, but it reminds me of mom. Anytime she yelled, I knew the day had gone from bad to worse.
"David... You have an interview soon, your people said it was in 15 minutes and that you should be heading out soon." My voice is higher in pitch, that only happens when I'm dreadfully aware of my surroundings. The places we stay in are nice still, but that homey vibe that used to accompany David has long gone.
The door creaks open, the room is dark, like the curtains have been pulled and all the lights smothered. His face is pale, sickly shining in the sterile lighting of the hall. The most haunting look is his eyes, they are so empty, he just stares at me with this dull look as though not even seeing me. David has been like this for a few weeks now, gradually refusing to acknowledge my presence to the point of convincing me I might not actually exist.
It hurts a lot, knowing the person you love and look up to sees you as nothing, but I still push forward.
He pushes the door open wider and walks past me, already dressed up in his suit and dragging along a cane.
"David... David!" He walked into the living room before turning to me, his eyes seemingly set ablaze.
"What." His tone is sharp with agitation, the short response making me feel uncomfortable.
"I... I was wondering...if-" My hesitant words get cut off as David glares at me.
"Hurry up and say it already!" He raises his voice, I can tell he's holding back from shouting at me.
"I just... David, I know." I don't know how else to word it, I just know that I need to confront him on his drug abuse.
"You know? Know what?" He actually seems generally confused, oh how his senses have been dulled.
"I know... I know about the drugs." The last half of my sentence is whispered, but his immediate rigidity alerts me that he heard me loud and clear. I finally look up to his face, and somehow he's become even paler; so gaunt I fear he may faint.
"H-How do you know about that?" For the first time in a while he sounds vulnerable, maybe even a little scared. There's no going back now, I have to tell him the truth and hope he sees reason.
"I looked through your bag a while ago and found it, please don't be mad!" There was a lilt in my voice, but it wasn't pleasant to hear, it more emphasized my worry at how this situation could unfold, and the next movements would only solidify that worry.
"How dare you." It had been silent for about a minute, so his stern toned sentence caught me slightly off guard.
"What?"
"Don't bring up matters that are none of your business!" Talking to him is like riding a roller coaster, one second he responds calmly, the next he's shouting your ear off. I actually stumble backwards, somewhat in shock due to the pure aggression and loathing he conveyed through his tone. The shout resonated in my head for a few moments before I forced myself to talk, my courage beginning to run thin.
"But David! Surely you can see that you're addicted-" My voice is soaked with concern, I love him so much, and this self-destructive behavior of his is hurting me as well. I'm about to continue but he steps forward and roughly shoves me back against the hotel wall.
"I'm not addicted! It is just a hobby!" The unbridled rage flows through his eyes, I see him raising his hand, but the rest is unknown because I shut my eyes tightly and turned away. I held my breath for a few seconds, awaiting the onslaught of abuse, but after being met with none I decided to maybe open my eyes.
The view I'm met with is pitiful almost, David is simply staring at me in shock, my arms still up to block any hits. I begin to breathe again, slowly lowering my arms as I watch his eyes well with tears.
"Y/.. Y/N, why did you do that?" I stare at him wearily, I thought he was going to hit me, I don't trust him anymore.
"You know why." I state solemnly, my voice but a whisper in the quiet hall.
"I would never!" He shouts back defensively, causing me to flinch away again.
He backs up frantically, he's about to say something before someone starts slamming on the door, hurriedly stating a message.
"Mr. Jones, your interview is in 5 minutes! We need to leave sir!" David stills for a moment before turning away. He straightens his suit and smooths his hair before grabbing his cane and walking to the door. As he's reaching for the handle he turns back to me, that same empty look having embodied him again.
"We'll talk about this when I get back." He's so cold, that's the coldest he's ever spoken to me, and I don't think I can take it anymore. Nodding my head, David leaves without another glance, a heavy feeling settling in my chest as I can feel the tears streaming down my face. I wipe them away quickly, the torn sleeve of my shirt dragging across my skin.
I can't stay here anymore, the way he spoke, what he did, how he left... He's chosen, and he didn't pick me. I should leave now, while he's gone. I stumble to my room, my legs apparently being a little wobbly after that interaction.
I pull out my backpack, shoving in clothes as well as my pen and notebook, packing my tooth brush/paste, combs, and moisturizer. I have to pack light, if the crew sees me heading out with a suitcase they will surely stop me from leaving, and I don't need David knowing that I was trying to run away... I worry to think what he would do to me.
I tear off my shirt and jeans and shove on a clean pair, wrapping my large jacket around my shivering frame, slipping on some insulated sweatpants as well. What can I say, it's December in New York City, I'm going to be cold as it is, no need to be freezing. I let my hair down to block my face, shoving on my boots before taking one last glance around.
Taking in my surroundings, I close my eyes and say a silent goodbye to David before grabbing my belongings and leaving.
Murder Drones is like cocaine for me.
I'm addicted.
Steven Universe is the gayest shit I have ever seen and I buy $3 drinks in the Castro District (Which is to say that I love it and that it is a very good show as well as art and social commentary).
this made me curious and I ended up reading a bunch of the wikipedia article on cocaine and also some lists of slang for it and here are my takeaways:
idk about regular cocaine but crack cocaine apparently vaporizes at around 200°F. I don't think I've ever baked bread below like 400°F so I guess you have to specifically not use crack cocaine in the story, unless it's just in, like, fillings? but crack cocaine is for smoking I think so this might all be irrelevant anyway
one slang term for cocaine is apparently "white girl." I propose to make the baker a white girl and call the story, like, "the white girl's bakery" or something
i want to write a horror story where a baker is secretly putting cocaine in their pastries and has gotten the whole town addicted to
Meal idea: cocaine 💞❄️
