The Lost Boy - Chapter 5 – part three - Speed Addiction!

This is where it began to spiral again — but in a new direction, with an old friend. Speed. Bass. Amphetamine.

I’d befriended a woman. Older than me. She had her own speed habit — full-blown — and with her came a supply. That was all it took.

From then on, things got wired. Fast.

She was seeing a friend — well, more of a friend’s brother at the time. She was in her late 30s, I think, but I’m not sure. Definitely an older woman. Much older than I was at the time.  We did get on well, and when I saw the access to drugs, we certainly got on better. There wasn’t anything romantic or sexual. Well, except for one incident — that was really just an incident. Something small happened, but it wasn’t for me. I didn’t like older women, and made that clear.

Bomb after bomb of bass. that’s how we took it, that’s stinky paste, wrapped in a rizla and swallowed with a drink. This was an odd time for me, with new behaviours stepping deeper into old ones. A bit less attractive — not that any of the behaviours were attractive.

Charity bin raiding became a regular thing. Looking for anything — clothes, forgotten treasures. I don’t know what we were doing, but it was quite fun, I’m not going to lie. As wrong as it might have been. We’d get back with our hoard, high as fuck, going through it like we’d struck gold! One man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure — certainly held some truth.

We found a desk and chair once. I remember stripping that back — taking it all apart, sanding it down and painting it. Reupholstering the chair and painting my daughter's name on it. That would be one of her gifts for Christmas that year. I know it sounds fucked up, but I was trying — and even in that mess, there were still some good intentions.

We would also sit up making dreamcatchers. I think quite a few people got one off me that year! Haha — it’s quite funny looking back. I really enjoyed it. I was high as fuck, in the zone, creating shit from junk. We would use lampshades — well, the metal ring from the top or bottom of the shade — and then wrap material around it. Using string or thread of some sort, we’d make the web, adding beads here and there. Then finishing it with various bits depending on the colour and the drug-induced ideas! They actually looked pretty good.

I met some interesting people around this time. Some wild characters. I remember one woman eating speed off a spoon like cereal. It shocked me at first, but soon — nothing really did. That was just life.

I didn’t sleep for days. Days turned into nights and back again, with no rest in between. I started hallucinating from the sleep deprivation — seeing shadows that weren’t there, feeling things crawl on my skin. I can’t remember it all, but they were very real at the time. I wasn’t scared though. I almost waited for them to start with excitement and anticipation. Like when that happened, I’d hit the real high! And being around like-minded people — or at least a like-minded person — there was no fear in sharing whatever crazy shit was being felt, seen or experienced. It was pretty wild. And definitely insane.

I wasn’t eating properly, so the weight stayed off. Ironically, this made me feel good about myself. As twisted as that is, I liked being lighter. I liked how running had started me off — but speed kept it going.

I’d binge for a few days — more if I could stretch it — then crash back at Mum’s to recover. Then once I’d rested just enough, I was off again.

This all ran alongside some of the time I was still hanging with my brother and his friends. It overlapped. Some weekends I was playing football with them. Other days I was sat in the dark, hiding the craziness from the world — but more to keep it to myself like it was a treat I didn’t want to share, than to protect the world or me. Jaw swinging. Mind racing. Trying to remember when I last ate or showered.

The rest at Mum’s after days of that was great. Getting cleaned up and sleeping for however long it took to feel normal again. I’d try to convince myself I would stay away from there as it wasn’t good for me, but I knew I was lying to myself. I’d rest, recover, chill with normal people, then go back after a few days. It was a very strange place I chose — but it was the escape I was choosing. I don’t really know now what from. Myself, maybe. Whenever I was completely off my nut, I didn’t worry about fixing myself at all. I guess that was partly behind every time I was in the height of addiction — no matter the substance. It was about relief from that constant feeling of not being as good as I should or could be.

I met some great people and some fucking weirdos along the way. And I was also probably viewed in the same light — sometimes great, other times a weirdo, I mean. Even at my worst, I still had real friendships in every group I moved through. I still speak to some of them now. But those friendships were woven into chaos — wrapped up in addiction, escape, and blurred boundaries. I think some of those connections pitied me a bit. Looked on and felt sorry for me — and probably were worried for me in some ways.

This was the speed chapter. A fast and fraying thread in the wider mess. And I was about to find a way out for a period of time. Another up-sticks-and-run moment that Gareth’s life already bore the pattern of.

Next was internet chat rooms, being drawn into online relationships — and then finding the one I chose to cling onto next. I guess we could call it the discovery of the internet… and how that led to the next chapter...