MyselfHeroin has always been in my life. Only recently has it left [almost three years].
It started with my mother, and stole her from me with the aid of Meth, cocaine, LSD, all of that, as well as vodka, whiskey and absynthe. She did not die, but she was not a mother. I would have rather she died.
I grew up in the "projects" of north Germany, and spent my time mingling with gangs. Several members of my own gang overdosed and ultimately died from heroin. Thankfully, the ones I was closest with survived.
I became an addict when I was twelve years old, and I changed. I became angrier, more hostile, selfish.. I wasn't myself. I lost myself.
In August 2009, I had a fatal overdose from shooting up six times in ten minutes. I went into cardiac arrest within a half hour. In medical terms, I died. The fool I was with at that moment didn't want to call an ambulance; he wanted to fix me himself. He cut my chest open, ready to give me open-heart surgery. The idiot.. He thought he could restart my heart by shocking me with lamp wires.
I was eventually taken to the hospital. Shortly after, I had an intervention. I'll be clean three years this September.
R.I.P. Keitz 1984-2003