If you had to name your drug after somebody, who would it be?

I arrived at work early again today, and in those first fifteen minutes, that guy was chatting to me on Skype again. Even though it was between midnight and 1AM in Houston where he is, there he was, that guy, the guy who can’t stop using meth and asks me advice but then doesn’t listen. He reminds me of myself a few years ago, and I hope that one day he ends his love affair with crystal meth.

He wrote an open letter to crystal meth and asked me to proofread it before he publishes it. I will in a bit, but first I had to write this. What got my interest is that he refers to writing a letter to her, to Tina.

Why Tina, I wonder? I have a friend named Tina. She’s an adorable 27 year-old Taiwanese girl who works in the same building as me, and sometimes we chat on our smoke breaks. She’s really beautiful, but it’s almost an innocent kind of cute beauty. I associate her name with purity and innocence. Maybe a little desire too; but one that will never be pursued.

My point is, if I have to personify crystal meth, Tina is not a name I’d use. Not Megan either, because she is also clean. Maybe Nicole, maybe Kaylene, maybe Laska… I think I’ll stick with Nicole. (And no, I am not going to tell that story.)

She represents beauty and desire packaged in a petite and sexy teenage female form. I lust for her and once I get some, I can’t stop. Never. Not even smashing myself against the back of her vaginal wall until I blister and bleed will be enough. She is the crying out of pleasure and pain all at once. She is an orgasm of blood. To her I will give all my money, my heart and soul (if only I had one) and all my belongings, and once I have nothing left, I will take what I can from others only to give to her as well. She is forbidden fruit that I can never taste again, because one bite will set me on a path where I never want to recover again.

And I jest – I do have a soul. It’s currently residing at the Cash Converters branch in Hell, on a buy-back with Satan.

But seriously, if you had to name your drug after a person, who would it be?

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About Jerome

I am a senior C# developer in Johannesburg, South Africa. I am also a recovering addict, who spent nearly eight years using methamphetamine. I write on my recovery blog about my lessons learned and sometimes give advice to others who have made similar mistakes, often from my viewpoint as an atheist, and I also write some C# programming articles on my programming blog.
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9 Responses to If you had to name your drug after somebody, who would it be?

  1. DREW5000G says:

    Cool post, Katrina is my crack

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Jerome says:

    She represents beauty and desire packaged in a petite and sexy teenage female form. I lust for her and once I get some, I can’t stop. Never. Not even smashing myself against the back of her vaginal wall until I blister and bleed will be enough. She is the crying out of pleasure and pain all at once. She is an orgasm of blood. To her I will give all my money, my heart and soul (if only I had one) and all my belongings, and once I have nothing left, I will take what I can from others only to give to her as well. She is forbidden fruit that I can never taste again, because one bite will set me on a path where I never want to recover again.

    Is this description correct, for you, the reader? I thought the sex metaphor was very effective, but it’s also crude and creates possibly offensive graphic imagery that I didn’t want to end the paragraph with. Hence I end it with the biblical metaphor, but does mixing the metaphors like this work OK? I’m not sure.

    Like

    • Ilva says:

      The personification of your drug addiction is very effective in that it makes your experience more accessible to those who have little or no understanding of how drug-addiction works and/or feels. As for the rest, whatever you decide, is perfect. “Correct” is a dirty word in creative writing – much more crude and offensive that your “graphic sexual imagery” will ever be ;). So get rid of it!!! 😛

      Liked by 1 person

      • Jerome says:

        Thanks. Yes, “correct” was not a great word – I put far less effort into the comment than I did in the post. 🙂

        But glad you agree it was effective.

        Btw, I’ve been wondering for ages, how the hell do I pronounce your name? Iva? With silent L? On FB, I can’t even see that the first letter is an I… (No offence. You are probably sick of this question.)

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        • Ilva says:

          A silent L would be truly exotic, wouldn’t it? It’s pronounced pretty much like it’s written. ILL (like sick) + VAH (by the Afrikaans-speaking) or VUH (English-speaking). It normally takes people a couple of tries, though – they tend to hear “Ilze” or “Hilda” when I introduce myself. Always awkward…

          It does look strange in a sans-serif font, but if you consider names start with capital letters, then it makes sense as ILVA and not LLVA. And I don’t mind the question… the ones I dread are, “Where is your name from?” (I can only answer ‘my grandmother’) and even worse, “What does it mean?” (To which I have no answer at all). I find it very odd that people feel compelled to ask the meanings of unusual names… the more common names have meanings too, but you never hear a Cathrine or Susan being asked what their names mean. It doesn’t really make sense.

          Liked by 1 person

          • Jerome says:

            Ja, I’m not fond of that question myself. Who cares what it means? The meaning of my name has nothing whatsoever to do with who I am. It’s just what my parents chose.

            My surname is strange. It’s apparently a plural of some Portuguese word, for I think a bed of flowers, where no plural form exists in the language. Also I don’t pronounce it as it should be.

            And I was named by my mother, after a “nice guy” who was a character in some crime novel she was reading. Only afterwards she found that he was the killer and turned out to be a psycho.

            Liked by 1 person

          • Jerome says:

            I read your poem about your daughter, after clicking your name as I checked by blog comments (about to leave work today). It makes me so sad. If I were in your shoes, I don’t know how I would manage. I don’t think I would.

            Like

            • Ilva says:

              No, you would. I always say to people who express this sentiment that they cannot be a true judge of themselves in any given situation unless they are actually in it. When Aimee had to undergo major heart surgery, I tried to imagine her passing away (thinking it might help me cope better if the situation presented itself), but everytime I tried to imagine it, I would pull my thoughts away almost immediately, as even just the imagining of it would make me feel I was losing some sense of sanity. Well, here I am – very much sane – and without therapy or mood/brain altering medication to give credit to. And no – it’s not because I am in denial (as many seem to think) or never loved her in the first place (which I fear many may also imagine is true, given I have not had a complete emotional and mental breakdown as yet).

              People are more resilient than given credit for. I am reading a very insightful book on bereavement & trauma called The Other Side of Sadness – the author (George A Bonanno) redefines the “official” ideology on what is expected in terms of the process involved. I am finding it very comforting, actually. He posits that grief is natural process – we have built-in neurological mechanisms that help us through it, and therapy can actually mess with this natural system. There are special cases, of course, but the majority cope just fine. An interesting book to read, especially for a non-believer (sceptics of his work are largely faith-based individuals). He deals with trauma as well, which might give you insight into your past – from some of your posts on your addiction, I feel much of your experiences (or even the entire experience as a whole) could be considered traumatic. In any case, it is an interesting read regardless.

              So please don’t fear bereavement. Of course, it is never something any of would willingly want to face, but it should give you comfort to know that if and when you are faced with it, you’ll be more ok than you can imagine ;P So, stop trying to imagine it, don’t waste your time fearing it, and just trust in the process.

              I wrote that poem days after she passed when I was still very much in a state of WTF. Currently, I am unable to write anything creative. I’ve tried, but I end up with pages and pages of verbal diarrhea that is largely nonsensical. To me, this is a sign that my beautiful mind is still working things out and transforming itself. Bonanno explains that grief always changes us rather dramatically (for the better). It is the consolation to loss. And in this, I find the greatest comfort of all.

              Liked by 1 person

              • Jerome says:

                I agree that much of my experience was traumatic. But some people in my past, when I was looking for empathy, would remind me that my trauma was self-inflicted. As if it makes it less traumatic somehow. Fortunately most people don’t do that.

                I tend to dwell on the bad things, and eventually do learn from them and come out stronger for it. But it is difficult. And in a situation like yours I’d be tempted to go back to my drug, which would make me feel good – remember the love and the good things. Then on coming down I’d feel the bad things exaggerated hundreds of times, and possibly end up suicidal. (Many addicts do end up committing suicide.) One of the many reasons I can’t go back.

                I’m glad you’re alright.

                Like

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