The High That Kills: A Meth Addict’s Diary
The High That Kills: A Meth Addict’s Diary
Blog Article
"I thought I could handle it. I was wrong."
This diary belonged to someone who no longer exists—the person I was before meth took everything. These pages document the descent: from curiosity to craving, from euphoria to agony, from living to merely surviving.
Some names have been changed. Some memories are fractured. But the pain is real.
Week 1: The Experiment
Day 1
*"Tried meth for the first time tonight. Holy shit. I've never felt so alive. Colors are brighter. My mind is razor-sharp. I wrote 20 pages for my thesis in three hours. No hunger, no fatigue—just pure energy. Why isn’t everyone doing this?"*
Day 3
"Did it again. Just to focus, you know? I can stop whenever I want. It’s not like I’m shooting up—just smoking a little. It’s under control."
Day 7
"Slept maybe 5 hours this whole week. My hands shake when I don’t have it. But I’m fine. Totally fine."
Month 2: The Slide
Entry Undated
"Lost my job today. Missed too many shifts. Doesn’t matter—I don’t need that place. I can make money other ways."
Entry Undated
"Stole from Mom’s purse. She doesn’t know. I’ll pay her back when I get my next check. (If I ever get another check.)"
Entry Undated
"My reflection looks wrong. My skin is gray. My teeth hurt. But I can’t stop. Not yet."
Month 6: The Monster in the Mirror
3:47 AM
"The bugs are back. I can feel them under my skin. I’ve been digging at my arms for hours, but they keep moving. I see them crawling in the corners of the room too. I know they’re not real. But they feel real."
Sometime in July?
"Haven’t eaten in days. My ribs stick out. My jeans fall off. But food makes me sick. Meth is all I need."
No Date
"Lisa left. Said she couldn’t watch this anymore. Let her go. She never understood."
Month 9: The Ghost
Undated
"Got jumped last night. Took my last $40. Don’t remember where I was. Woke up in an alley, blood on my shirt. My phone’s gone. Don’t care."
Undated
"Dad showed up at my door. He cried. Said I look like a corpse. Told him to fuck off. Why won’t they all just leave me alone?"
Undated
"Tried to quit today. Made it 12 hours. The crash was unbearable—like my bones were on fire. One more hit. Just one more."
Year 1: The End or the Beginning?
January 1st (I think?)
"New Year’s resolution: Stop. For real this time. But not today. Tomorrow."
February
"Overdosed. Woke up in the ER. Doctor said my heart almost stopped. I laughed at him. What does he know?"
March 14th
"I’m done.
I can’t do this anymore.
I either quit or die.
Called my sister. She’s coming to get me.
God help me."
Epilogue: The Pages After
This diary ends here. The writer survived.
- Detox took 14 days of hell.
- Rehab lasted 90 days—the first time. (Relapsed twice.)
- Recovery is ongoing, five years later.
The person who wrote these entries is gone. But someone else is here now.
Final Note: If You’re Reading This
Maybe you’re where I was. Maybe you’re just curious. Either way, know this:
Meth doesn’t just kill you—it erases you first.
It takes your face, your mind, your soul, piece by piece, until nothing remains but the need for the next high.
But if I clawed my way back, so can you.
Where to Find Help
- SAMHSA National Helpline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)
- Narcotics Anonymous: www.na.org
- Crisis Text Line: Text "HELP" to 741741
This diary could have been a eulogy. Instead, it’s proof that even the darkest stories can have new chapters.
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