Chemist of Depression

I wake to a big fat pain in my heart. Looking at the gristle bumps of scar tissue on my arms I only dare think in flashes of what ethylphenidate must have done to my heart. Last weeks sudden ban on this corrosive chemical will save many lives. Few found out intravenous injection delivered a hit incomparable in the world of stimulants. The sweet spot so hard to find; too little won't get you there, too much and you feel a rush so powerful you fell certain to die. But get it right and it trumped cocaine at its finest, beat methamphetamine hands down. Nothing came close as a pleasure sensation of dopamine. But I must have come close to death so many times and wonder if this drug took more years off my life than any other. Or, optimistically, could it just be heartburn. There's more than one man been convinced of his imminent death only to find i defeatism was the pain source. But I havnt eaten in twelve hours. The body is pretty good at recuperation in your twenties, late four ties, still fit, I might grow back. Not much I can do about it now. I'm not proud the stuff caught me twice as an addiction. But, just as I left town, to go to my shamanic retreat, I'd done my last in the morning and was flagging awaiting the drive ahead so scored what was supposed to be the best base speed there'd been in town for years. A huge deal for an old mate. Yet it was, by comparrison so weak I barely felt it. Goodbye to all that.
Returning here for a few reasons. Try collect my dog and partner for a trip to the coast. See if they want to join me on my new mission. I'll understand if they don't. To see a doctor. Other trivia.. I go to the chemist where I have collected my subutex for well over a decade to say hello, and partly to brag about being clean. Totally opiate free for first time in 18 odd years. Again my chemist freind is dispirit ting me. Ah, but it's staying off, she tells me. Now, in my first few years of addiction I made many failed attempts to change and relapsed each time. Now I am in such a different place. Addictions run an average twelve years. I have achieved in two weeks what most fail to achieve in months and the praise I had hoped for is tinged in depressing predictions of my failure. I won't fail. Of this I am certain. Absolutely certain.
In order to be the drug dealers they are, dishing out methadone and subutex each day, they must construct a justification narrative. People on subutex are trying to stop. It blocks on top use of other opiates. Methadone is quite different. It substitutes seamlessly for heroin. It is a safety net so when the junky can't score he has his meth to get by. Most have no interest in stopping. Chemists can't accept that all they are doing is supplying methadone to keep the junkies from rattling till they next get cash. Subutex, however, requires a painful change over and is only of use if someone wishes to stop taking heroin.
The other myth which my chemist subscribes to as a particularly cruel myth. Rehabs seldom work. When they do they spit out brainwashed altered spirit killed people. One flew over the cuckoos nest. When a person has no GABA to relax the brain and body, no endorphins for pain, they will literally cling to anything. There follows a Breaki g down proccess where every aspect of the person is put to trial. The person is at the weakest mental point of their lives. Once broken down in this state of zero protective neurotransmitters, they can be reprogrammed. You can turn out green pagans, Muslims, Christians, any type you want such is the fragility of waht remains of the person. I have seen strong minded, good people return idiots to some spiritual bunkum. It is, to my mind, both unnecessary and evil. Besides, if you construct a new person you have failed in your job.