If I Smoked Crack

Bare with me. It may by no means seem this way, but the CRACK subject is near and dear to my heart. Let me tell you why.

My Uncle is a Crack Head. There is definitely one in every family. Well, mine came in the form of my mother's younger brother. It use to make me all sad and stuff. You know... having a Crack Head uncle, but as the years pass, I have chose to laugh instead of cry. So... I have created this post.

If I Smoked Crack:

If I smoked crack, I would be layed up at momma's house. I would be just coming down from a high, and contemplating when I would get the next one. I know I would have hurt her deeply by the choices I had made in life. Realistically, she's momma so she would love me unconditionally. Thus, letting me live with her. It would get hard on her sometimes 'cause the drug dealers would come by from time to time looking for me. She would get her life threatened, tires slashed, and windows broken. She knew it was all apart of the deal when you took care of your crack head daughter. Momma would pretend to be shocked when she noticed pieces of her jewelry missing, and believe me, she has lots of nice stuff. She would blame the 'carelessness' on her self, for leaving the jewelry out. Momma was in denial because deep down she knew it was me, her crack head daughter who stole from her. She didn't want to realize it because, she still considered me that baby that she carried and gave birth to. Little did she know (or want to admit), I had changed as soon as I was introduced to crack cocaine.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Me and the fellas hanging at a friends house. We were drinking and smoking it up. We smoked weed just about everyday. We got so use to being high (on the weed), so we started popping pills. That got old, so we started snorting cocaine... anything to escape reality. Coke made my nose burn, so that wasn't for me. Thus, Mr. Pipe got introduced into my life. It was weird at first, putting the crack in and lightning up. I wasn't use to it. It did not take long though. Soon, I did it with ease. After inhaling the addicting drug, I instantly depended on it. I was taken so far from reality it was unbelievable. I could do anything. Be anybody. Until I came down from my high at least. Then, there reality was. Get this... I felt worse than I did to begin with. So, then it started. Getting access to crack every time I didn't feel well, and this was alot. My dependency began.

I would be getting really thin. My outer appearance would begin to not matter at all to me. My teeth would began to decay and my hair would fall out. I would do anything for crack. Suck as many d**ks as possible, sell my body, my child, steal, lie, etc... I would do all it took to get high. I would alienate family and friends. I would lose my self worth and belongings. I would lose myself. I would be a Crack Head. By choice. A Crack Head.

My initial intent for this post was humorous. The more and more I wrote, the more sad I became. Drug dependency is truly a problem. Those who truly want and seek help are normally the only one's who benefit from it. If this disease plagues you (not sure if you would even be reading this) or a loved one, stay strong. When God is added to any situation, it automatically works out in our favor.

Stay strong.

The End.

~Crackiswack,gethighofflife~