lucky13
Likes Dirt
well boys, this thread is mainly aimed at the younger blokes that may be just being exposed to drugs for the first time and is intended as a deterent, not something to be looked at as cool.
i am 35 years old and i first shared a spliff with mates when i was 11 (we knicked the neighbour's plants).
by the age of 13 i had my own crop in the scrub and was selling hash blocks at school for an older fella i knew.
at 15 i bunged gas up my arm for the first time and, to be honest, hated it.
so it went in my nose or i swallowed the filthty crap.
16 and the "10 foot tall and bullet proof" coke came into my life. this consumed my whole life (and ruined a promising footy career). i started my apprenticeship as a boilermaker and moved out of home.
i did every bit of overtime offered to buy my the shit. i lived in a flat with a mate and 2 chicks and we ate 2 minute noodles for every meal and took slices of bread to work for lunch. every other cent was pooled for drugs and rent.
By 19 i had gone from a 90kg footballer to a 70kg nothing. every waking moment of my life was about being toasted. i didn't sleep (ever) and couldn't even crack a fat (i'm serious).
at 20 i met mrs lucky, who i went to school with, and didn't even remember her (and she's a foxrat!). she told me i looked like shit but i conned her into a night out. the night i took her out i did a full gram and she told me to fuck off.
this became a challenge for me. to get her i had to wake up, so i gave the jerk drug the flick and she was proud of me.
poor mrs lucky didn't know about the ms.cottons, diazapans and viacadins that i was still shoving down my neck. she wondered why i was so moody.
about this time a good mate (and bud dealer) that i grew up with was murdered and had his body dumped up stockton beach by a piece of shit that owed drug money.
he was trying to get my mate's cash off him. his accomplice only lived 3 days after getting out of gaol. justice!
at 23 we got married (i was in the toilets doing lines off the dunny lid at the reception....idiot) and mrs lucky got pregnant and later that year lucky jr(badlad on here) was born.
that was my slap in the face. mrs lucky was in labour for 58 hours and when he eventually came out i cried my fucken eyes out.
my life changed forever. no more drugs. no more violence. no more crime.
now, the best man at my wedding was a mate i'd know since i was 2. we used to fight over star wars men, lego and were side by side in every scrum on the footy feild.
every year on the eve of our wedding anniversary we have a party for all the people who were in our bridal party.
in January 2002 we had this party and it led into newcastle. i drank beer untill i couldn't fit any more in, so i went to sleep in the back of my HQ holden.
when i woke up my best mate was driving and we went to get brekkie at mcdonalds.
he went to the loo while i bought food.
when he got back in the car (driver's seat), he put his head down and said "fuck, that shit hurt" and fell asleep.
i didn't think much of it because he was always passing out when we were drunk.
so i shoved him over and drove home.
he died.
heroin.
hotshot.
i didn't know he'd had a crack.
i drove past a hospital to get home.
best mate ever....dead fucken dead. no comin back. fucken dead. forever.
i went nuts, punched everything and everone. coppers, ambos, neighbours, mates, even my dog.
funeral was fucked...after the wake we dragged another junkie mate down to the creek and held his head under the water trying to make him wake up...we were wrong by doing that.
i let that mate stay at my house for a bit and he stole my kid's gameboy!
i held him beside my car and dragged him down the road, when i let go i ran over his shoulder.
that was wrong too. addicts aren't doing what they do on purpose.
6 months later my cousin overdosed on heroin and died.
dead fucken dead...never coming back....dead.
and this is what brought this on.......the date of my cousin's death.
i have no advice to give other than to say, have a look at the shit i wrote and stay the fuck away from drugs.
it's all shit, all of it.
all i got out of it was a deviated septum, obsesive compulsive disorder and a suit for funerals.
i want my years (and mates) back.
if 1 of you listens, i'll be happy.
lucky loves you.
i am 35 years old and i first shared a spliff with mates when i was 11 (we knicked the neighbour's plants).
by the age of 13 i had my own crop in the scrub and was selling hash blocks at school for an older fella i knew.
at 15 i bunged gas up my arm for the first time and, to be honest, hated it.
so it went in my nose or i swallowed the filthty crap.
16 and the "10 foot tall and bullet proof" coke came into my life. this consumed my whole life (and ruined a promising footy career). i started my apprenticeship as a boilermaker and moved out of home.
i did every bit of overtime offered to buy my the shit. i lived in a flat with a mate and 2 chicks and we ate 2 minute noodles for every meal and took slices of bread to work for lunch. every other cent was pooled for drugs and rent.
By 19 i had gone from a 90kg footballer to a 70kg nothing. every waking moment of my life was about being toasted. i didn't sleep (ever) and couldn't even crack a fat (i'm serious).
at 20 i met mrs lucky, who i went to school with, and didn't even remember her (and she's a foxrat!). she told me i looked like shit but i conned her into a night out. the night i took her out i did a full gram and she told me to fuck off.
this became a challenge for me. to get her i had to wake up, so i gave the jerk drug the flick and she was proud of me.
poor mrs lucky didn't know about the ms.cottons, diazapans and viacadins that i was still shoving down my neck. she wondered why i was so moody.
about this time a good mate (and bud dealer) that i grew up with was murdered and had his body dumped up stockton beach by a piece of shit that owed drug money.
he was trying to get my mate's cash off him. his accomplice only lived 3 days after getting out of gaol. justice!
at 23 we got married (i was in the toilets doing lines off the dunny lid at the reception....idiot) and mrs lucky got pregnant and later that year lucky jr(badlad on here) was born.
that was my slap in the face. mrs lucky was in labour for 58 hours and when he eventually came out i cried my fucken eyes out.
my life changed forever. no more drugs. no more violence. no more crime.
now, the best man at my wedding was a mate i'd know since i was 2. we used to fight over star wars men, lego and were side by side in every scrum on the footy feild.
every year on the eve of our wedding anniversary we have a party for all the people who were in our bridal party.
in January 2002 we had this party and it led into newcastle. i drank beer untill i couldn't fit any more in, so i went to sleep in the back of my HQ holden.
when i woke up my best mate was driving and we went to get brekkie at mcdonalds.
he went to the loo while i bought food.
when he got back in the car (driver's seat), he put his head down and said "fuck, that shit hurt" and fell asleep.
i didn't think much of it because he was always passing out when we were drunk.
so i shoved him over and drove home.
he died.
heroin.
hotshot.
i didn't know he'd had a crack.
i drove past a hospital to get home.
best mate ever....dead fucken dead. no comin back. fucken dead. forever.
i went nuts, punched everything and everone. coppers, ambos, neighbours, mates, even my dog.
funeral was fucked...after the wake we dragged another junkie mate down to the creek and held his head under the water trying to make him wake up...we were wrong by doing that.
i let that mate stay at my house for a bit and he stole my kid's gameboy!
i held him beside my car and dragged him down the road, when i let go i ran over his shoulder.
that was wrong too. addicts aren't doing what they do on purpose.
6 months later my cousin overdosed on heroin and died.
dead fucken dead...never coming back....dead.
and this is what brought this on.......the date of my cousin's death.
i have no advice to give other than to say, have a look at the shit i wrote and stay the fuck away from drugs.
it's all shit, all of it.
all i got out of it was a deviated septum, obsesive compulsive disorder and a suit for funerals.
i want my years (and mates) back.
if 1 of you listens, i'll be happy.
lucky loves you.
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