The Skin-E

Okay, I left off on the night I got thrown out of the christian based homeless shelter or “rehab” that I was in. Like I said, the reason for me being kicked out was because I broke curfew while I was picking up drugs. I was actually on the hunt for a syringe and that is why it took me so long. I made it back there an hour late with 5 bags of heroin and a dime of coke and they kicked me out on the street at midnight. I had no idea where I was going or what I was going to do, but I had half a bundle of heroin and a dime of coke so I was (sadly) happy. I did a speedball almost immediately after getting kicked out and began walking around the Northern New Jersey streets. I came across some guy who was obviously drunk off his ass, and who also turned out to be homeless. I explained my situation to him and he told me he would find us a place to stay tonight. Well, that place turned out to be a hallway in some random building. So yeah, I took my spot in a corner of the stairway and nodded in and out throughout the night. We left around 5:30am next morning before anyone in the building would be waking up and went to a nearby hospital to get a meal. I had a tuna fish sandwich and this drunk was so shitfaced last night that I remember him waking up in the middle of the night and saying he had to go to the bathroom, but rather than go outside and relieve himself, the motherfucker just pissed his pants right there! So when we got to the hospital, they gave him new clothes (I guess he’s a regular there or something, because they seemed to have this routine down) and then I made him lead me back to town so I could ditch him, and that is exactly what I did. I had 2 bags left, so of course, I decided to bang one of them, and then I decided to finally face the music.

I called my father first and broke the news to him. Of course he told me I was shit out of luck and that I could not come home. So I called my grandmother since I could not remember my mother’s phone number, and had her call my mother to break the news to her. My mother was not too pleased as well, and she basically said the same thing, that being that I was not welcome at her house either. My grandmother didn’t know what to tell me either, but I had a feeling that if I showed up at my grandmother’s house, that she would not be able to turn me away, so that is exactly what I did. I managed to convince two conductors of two trains to get me to Central Jersey and they did just that. I showed up at my grandmother’s house at around 11pm and just as I guessed, she couldn’t turn me away. I did my last bag of heroin as soon as I got there and immediately stole 4 of her xanax to send me into a coma. She noticed the Xanax missing and immediately knew that nothing had changed with me. I was still a fucking mess and now I was in her house. So I basically stayed there for 2 weeks, using every few days until the end of the second week. By that time I was already back to stealing from her and it didn’t take her long to catch on and give me the boot (once again).

So now I was on the street, and I called my mother and asked her for help. She actually did all she could and put me in a hotel for about a week while we tried to get me into a detox. All we could manage to do was get on a 2 week waiting list for a 28 day program, but my mother was not in the position to pay for my stay at this hotel for 2 weeks. She was also supporting my habit while I was there because I manipulated her into thinking that my piss had to be dirty in order for them to accept me into a detox, and that is not even a complete lie. Your urine must be dirty with heroin if you are to be admitted into a detox unit. I’ve actually seen them turn people away because homeless people like to go to detoxes to get a warm place to sleep and eat for a few days, so I wasn’t being a complete scumbag by telling her this. After my week stay at this seedy hotel, my mother tried to get me into a Salvation Army program but they all had waiting lists as well, so there was nothing I could do. Like any junkie would do, I told her to give me money and just take me to Newark, NJ, aka the heroin capital of the East Coast. I was home(less). Get it? Ha! As soon as I got there I went straight to the dope spot, spent every penny I had and got high all day, and by the time night came, I tried to get myself admitted into a detox out there and thought I succeeded, until 8PM when the doctor came up to me and told me I was being discharged. Now I was homeless and sort of banking on getting into this detox, so I spent the night in the waiting room only to awake to a cop telling me to get out of there at 8AM the next morning. I explained to him that I was homeless and asked him to help me find a homeless shelter over here. He handed me a list and actually personally called them all until he found a place for me to go. The Goodwill in Newark, NJ. This place was to be my home for the next 2 months or so.

The Goodwill was an absolute shithole. You slept on these skimpy ass mats on the floor in the chapel, and had to be in by 7:30PM if you wanted to spend the night. They served you a shitty, skimpy meal at 5PM and this was usually the only meal I ate all day. They also served oatmeal and muffins with coffee in the morning. They also made all the residents take a shower every night. Sounds amazing right? A homeless shelter forcing bums to take a shower? It was fucking horrible. You stood in a line while people stripped down naked right in front of you and hopped in one of the 3 shower stalls. It was absolutely disgusting, and it blew my mind that this is what my life had resorted to. I was still using everyday while I was here too. In order to get money, I ran scams with other junkies, or panhandled at the train station, and I also went to detox twice while I was at the Goodwill, but the reason I was going to detox was because I wanted a nice bed to sleep in, 3 meals a day, and a clean place to shower, rather than going there to get clean. As soon as they discharged me I found a way to get money, usually by having my mom pick me up to give me money before I lied to her by telling her I was going to an inpatient program and just needed a little bit of money to get by. This went on over November and December, and then the person in charge at the Goodwill had enough of me. They knew I was a drug user, and I was constantly nodding out inside and making it blatantly obvious that I was using drugs. I was only supposed to be allowed to stay there for 14 days, but I kept swearing to them that I was going to detox and that I just needed a little bit more time. A little after Christmas, my time ran out and they gave me the boot. Now I was rightfully on the street with no where to go and a nasty drug habit to support.

Over January of this year, I was sleeping in airports or in the subway system, and finding ways to use everyday. The cops came to know me as a homeless junkie so I had to watch where I showed my face, and life was absolute hell. Everything didn’t get better until my last run, but I am going to save that story for my next entry.

So until then, Legz is out.