What’s so beautiful about meth? Like, what attracts people to it? I mean, if turning into a rotting zombie look-a-like sounds appealing to you, I know tons of dealers in my town you can talk to. Seriously though, there’s probably a reason we’re all warned never to do it. Oh wait, there is! You’ll turn into Gollum’s twin and die. Pretty rad, am I right?
Wrong. I’ve seen what happens to these people, and it’s not at all awesome. There’s a girl in my town bestowed with the name “Tweaker Terri”. Now, Terri is a 26 year old girl who has fried her brain on Meth. Yep, her life is already over at 26. Want to know what Ol’ Terri does nowadays? You can usually see her riding nude on Webb Street. Tits flapping in the breeze as she speeds on down the road, for all the townspeople to gawk at. Or you’ll see her walking down the boulevard, hand down her mini skirt touching her… um… thingy. She, sadly, has given birth three times. The children were born handicapped due to her unhealthy lifestyle, and were taken by officials right when they popped out of their torture chamber. Her sister is even worse, believe it or not. “Fatty Patti” as we dubbed her, is totally nuts. I mean, she poured blue house paint on her head, and told everyone it was a new hairstyle called the “O.J. Simpson”, like what? Yeah, I’m being for real right now. For the longest time, up until recently, Patti was largely overweight. This didn’t stop her from wearing booty shorts and halter tops meant for smaller women. Poking from her skimpy clothes, her pubic hair has glistened in the warm summer sun numerous times. Speaking of summer, imagine the smell of her festering vagina on a hot day. I, actually, don’t have to imagine it, because I’ve smelled the steam cloud that sprang forth of “the hole that shall not be named”. There I was, minding my own business, breathing the purified air Von’s Supermarket had to offer. I rounded the corner, wanting to get some corn nuts, and then BOOM! I was smacked in the face with the stench of crotch rot and maybe a hint of bloody puss, and before me, stood Fatty Patti in a pair of gogo boots. I proceeded to book it out of the store and dry heave.
Then fairly recently, my friend Cortney sent me a snapchat video of her little sister Danielle cutting Patti’s armpit hair with scissors. Patti, obviously high out of her mind, was a willing participant and was not harmed in the making of that video, just in case you were wondering. So if those two examples don’t scare you into not doing meth, have fun having crotch rot! On a less severe, but equally sad note, there is a girl who went to high school with me who is headed down this path. I was never friends with her really, but we’ve known each other long and were familiar, and I saw where she was going. Every chance I had, I would tell her she needs to graduate and leave this town. That she needs to get out and actually experience life. I almost thought I got to her, but she proved otherwise. Before we graduated, she contracted gonorrhea and hepatitis C from sleeping with a druggie. I’ll see her every now and then, thinner and thinner. Her boyfriend is around 45, and she just wanders the streets with him and his dog. I get sad when I see that. She could have been something, but she chose this. Why would she do that? What is it about that life that has people flocking towards it? It’s probably just all they know. Even if that’s so, that’s really no excuse. You should want better for yourself.
All meth causes is grueling poverty and slow death. Others stare at you like you’re scum, and you turn into a thief in order to get your next fix. Knowing all this, people still do it. Terri does, Patti does, and the girl I went to high school with, too.
So, I guess, have fun with that life. Sure, it’s a grand time at first! I bet it’s way entertaining, actually. But I think I’m going to go explore this beautiful world, and lead a meaningful life, instead of smoking chemicals in the bathroom of a trailer in a sh*tty small town.
