From: reubenflack
Date: Sat Mar 10 11:32:56 EST 2012
Subject: The Clarity of Crack Cocaine

Responses russ: No Subject (3/7/12) Responses (sorted by date) russ: No Subject (3/7/12) It was about eleven pm. Rain beat softly on the roof above and steadily made its way down the windows of his tiny studio apartment. The one light left on cast shadows across the room, and the frigid humidity gave off an empty feeling of futility. Lloyd knelt on the ground in front of his sink clutching his chest. His crack pipe was lost in the on slot of euphoria that comes after a hit. Lloyd was sure that this hit was going to be the last thing he ever did. As the pain in Lloyd's chest began to spread though his arms, he felt a brief moment’s regret that his life would end without one more blast. The blood pumping just behind his eyeballs rang loudly in his ears as he groped across the floor aimlessly. Struggling to cope with the enormity of his situation, a sense of nostalgia swept over him. Lloyd began think about all the choices that lead him to this moment. Most of those choices were his but others most certainly were not. Was he to blame for being a dead end drug addict or could the credit be laid at someone els's feet. Perhaps it was all of the overly harsh discipline he received as a child or being given drugs by his father or all the affairs his father had with various women. Maybe he was a loser crack head because he saw so many of his friends as a child, abused and neglected by their parents’. Maybe he was a dead beat because of his inability to challenge all of the tragedy around him or make any kind of difference at all. Amused by his own thoughts, he struggled to rise and felt the sharp ache in the middle of his chest renew itself in earnest. As he laid back down he thought to himself how sadly fortunate that death could ever feel so good. Maybe, Lloyd thought to himself, it was simply a lack of opportunity that had defined the outcome of his life. If he had been made to go to school as child instead of being left to fend for himself, things might have been very different. Even a stable home with food in the fridge as a teenager would have gone a long way. Working two jobs to pay his rent at the tender age of sixteen was bound to bring about dysfunctional tendencies. Thoughts came and went quickly as the moment ticked by. As Lloyd’s hand inched its way back and forth across the floor he felt the familiar shape of his pipe and took hold of it as if it were the most precious thing he owned. The pain seemed less now than it had before. In fact, Lloyd thought to himself, he couldn’t feel much of anything really. Perhaps he had finally reached the end. No more broken promises, no more broken people. As he lay there waiting for conscious thought to flee his body, he began to wonder if anyone would miss him. He wondered if anyone would really notice. It was about 11:15 pm. When Lloyd removed his hand from is chest and began to stand up. Having narrowly escaped an overdose, Lloyd felt triumphant. It was about 11:16 pm. when Lloyd has a momentary burst of clarity and inspiration. He decided he was never going to smoke that stuff again. He was going to sober up and maybe even go to church or even get some counseling and stuff! Lloyd was going to be a whole new man. The only thing standing in the way of his new life was a large bag of cocaine. the best way to be rid of this drug would probably be to smoke it all. It was 11:17 when Lloyd began to load his pipe again.

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From: russ
Date: Wed Mar  7 12:58:39 EST 2012
Subject: