My First Hit
What made the first time?
Despite my bad memory, I can remember my first time like it was yesterday. Which is saying something, since I tend not to remember a lot.
But this moment was different.
It really began three years ago, and the world was just starting to loosen up again. Ironically, it was also my third rave as well.
My first one was what got me interested in partying, but I otherwise negatively associate it since I went with a certain someone who I did not love. My second one I went alone but ended up hanging out with some friends there, sort of like stepping stone to becoming myself after needing someone as a crutch for so long.
But even that one was restricted.
Not enough time spent dancing, mostly just socializing with a little bit of jumping around.
I hated not being able to really be free.
But that’s when my third party comes around.
Kasabian vs The Prodigy - Rocket Fuel
(Whooooooo)
Like a feather, pick me up
Go into to the party, wanna fuck it up
I’m trippin out, all the wall lights
Never seen anybody like it all night
Overbite, secret handshake
I was lost but now I’ll make the earthquake
I could be myself for as long as I was still moving. It was the freesest I’ve been in while, but there were still parts of be still chained. Still missing.
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
I was lost but now I make the earthquake
A girl I somewhat knew came over to me, and shouted over the music, saying: “Come dance with me!”
I didn’t want to, I just wanted to be myself for once.
I thought she was fairly attractive then, even though I was mistrusting of her.
Now I'm not sure what I saw in her every time I waved as we walked by, with a paranoia that was both uncertain love and suicidal.
“No, I’m good,” I told her, growing nervous. At the time, I thought she was pretty, but my inner voices distrusted her for various reasons.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun,” she said again, not wanting to give up but far from pleading.
“No, really, it’s fine,” I told her again, probably visibly sweating and growing nervous. It had nothing to do with my jacket, either, that I’m sure of.
(Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
You’re my rocket fuel You’re my rocket fuel
(Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel (Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel (Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
And I know I drive you crazy
Always got you asking why-y-y
I can’t help it that I’m lazy
I’ll be floating getting high-i-i-i
I’m not asking you to save me
I’m just looking to the sky-i-i-i
We can go together baby
I can teach you how to fly-i-i-i-e-i-e-i
She didn’t fully care weather I said no or yes. I suppose it was all the same to her. She took my hands in hers and started a two person dance that was kind of like swinging our arms together.
That moment, something broke inside of me. The possibility of the future I had been working so hard to rebuild came crashing down like a weak dam, and every little thing I had tried to keep at bay came rushing in, flooding my mind, overstimulating me in fear.
It was probably visible to her, too, since I remember going fairly stiff in that moment, growing awkward. I don’t want to make the comparison between myself and a corpse.
Like a feather, pick me up
Go into to the party, wanna fuck it up
I’m trippin out, all the wall lights
Never seen anybody like it all night
Overbite, secret handshake
I was lost but now I’ll make the earthquake
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
I was lost but now I make the earthquake
Maybe it was lucky for me at that point that some of her friends walked by, and she let me go, waving jubilantly at them before rushing off to join them, finally leaving me to stand on my own.
The main issue with rebuilding something, from rubble, is that with a strong enough breeze, the slightest miss touch, the barest jiggle in the foundation, or anywhere in the structure really, the structure is bound to fall back down to where the prices lay before you started picking them up.
And that’s just what she did.
Skipped knocking on a door and came through the window, bumping away some pieces that may have seemed inconsequential to her on her way in, but were my future to me.
I needed a drink and left the dance floor to go get a cup and lounge around where I knew nobody.
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
I was lost but now I’m making the earthquake
And that’s when I saw them.
Just ordinary people, just some kids, barely around 20 and probably around my age, too.
I’m sure they needed money, and I can forgive them for that because I know what it’s like to be in that position.
But I think they sensed something familiar when they saw me, a need for an escape. By any means necessary.
And it was just what I wanted.
“Hey man!” one of them shouts to me over the music whose bass I could feel physically resonate in my chest. “How’s it going?”
Even though we were in ear shot range, I had to do my own yelling over the music with my more meek voice as I very briefly raised my cup in a faux salute before taking a very quick drink. “Eh, I think you know,” was my response.
And it was true, they knew just how I felt and what I wanted.
“Hey, I think I got something for you,” said the other, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a little white medicine bottle that had all the labels roughly removed. I could still where the glue held on to paper and stuck onto the plastic.
They popped it open and showed me that it was filled with purple little circular pills.
I nodded and just said “how much do I owe you?”
“Nah, nothing, this one’s for free. You look like you need it.”
I was glad I didn’t have to pay in cash then, but today I know that I paid with much more.
I held out my palm and they tapped out three pills into my hand. I grasped them with a sweaty fist and thanked them.
They told me it was no problem and went on their way.
I quickly finished my drink like it was a shot and threw the cup in the garbage because there were no recycling bins in a place like this.
Just trash.
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, you’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel
Go into the party, wanna fuck it up
With my future clutched in one hand, I headed to the bathroom nearby and looked around to find that aside from a few people in the stalls, I was alone.
I put my free hand on the counter and looked at myself in the scratched mirror.
Sad, tired and desperate is how I looked.
I held up the pills and looked at them in the poor lighting.
I knew the risks, especially of handouts from all those anti drug commercials.
“I’ll never die because I’ll never try” is what some of the commercials said.
Buth truth was I didn’t care.
If they had fentanyl in them, then I probably would be dead already from just touching it.
And even if not, then at least I wouldn’t drag along any longer.
“Fuck it,” I said solemnly to myself like I was swearing upon my bloodline which would probably end with me, as I started at the pills.
I leaned by head back swiftly and shoved all three of the pills into my mouth at once, dry swallowing them quickly.
Already so much better.
(Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
You’re my rocket fuel, You’re my rocket fuel
(Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel Fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel, fuel)
Personal Note:
This is actually based on a series of true events that have happened to me.
I've obviously combined them together to have a more cinematic and concentrated telling, so some of of this is plain fiction, even if it’s all based on something real.
All of the people here are real people as well, but I've chosen to leave them anonymous because their role could fit anyone really, not to mention that I’m not particularly excited about in getting into fights with people about actions I'm personally ashamed of, even if I do put a fair amount of blame on one person other than myself.
Please also know that prior to this I had abused over the counter drugs on and off for three years, graciously without ever becoming addicted, but this was something different.
I've been clean for little over a year now, and although I'm still not in the best of places, I'm a lot better than I used to be, and am always working to get back to the feeling of innocence I once had. I may never reach that point, but sometimes it's the journey that matters. I'd rather say that I died happily in the process of regaining my youth than to say that I never improved.
As for the nameless girl, I seem to have been one of two people who did not think she was a top tier human being, and everytime I hear her mentioned it reminds me that statistically most serial killers are viewed as model citizens in their community. So if anything, this has really taught me not to trust public opinion.
Recently I've started to notice someone new in my life who seems to look at me with what I believe I recognized as the same mixture of love and suicide that I used to give to someone who I never should have.
So now, I begin to wonder how close our stories are, and if they are similar, then is this the fates giving me not only a second chance, but a chance to be better than the girl I had mistrusted?
I don't really want you to answer that, it's mainly for me so I can force myself to wonder and think beyond.
(If you are one of the nondescript people I mention here; awkward….
But welcome to my freak show, nonetheless).
Before you go, here’s a question for you to ponder:
If you were given a chance to go back in time and to tell yourself one thing, what would it be and do you think you would have listened?
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powerful. I'd tell my younger self that life isn't going turn out the way you hope, so make better decisions. Oh, and get healthy, because you get cancer when you're 50.
I have a lot of regrets. People, places, things, choices. You can't go backwards, only forward. We are the sum of all of the experiences of our lives--even the bad, but there's a silver lining to it. It taught you something and you might not know it for years, but there's a lesson in everything. I regret that I've hurt people and myself along the way, but I don't regret the lessons.