"...the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth..." -Genesis 8:21
As I had closed in the last segment: "I threw the yoke of the world off of my back in bitterness and sought any other means possible to relieve myself of the pain and emptiness which had troubled me from youth". I want to flashback for a second and briefly speak of how my manufacturing of meth came to be. Even as a little child I tried with all my might to suppress the truth in unrighteousness. This suppression started as "innocently" as living in my own imagination as a child and progressed as I grew older into vice, addiction, sexual immorality and crime. There is a story to be told within the context of that sentence alone, but for the sake of a PG-13 rating and to keep from getting too far off track, I will just say that the satisfaction all this brought to me ultimately became a greater void to fill and a pain increasingly more difficult to relieve. I turned to meth out of the progressive growth of my own imputed depravity. It seemed to abate the discomfort of being stuck in my own wretched skin and quieted the voice of my defiled conscience. It gave me energy, excitement, and adventure. Living this false life of course only added to the pain when the dope was all gone. I soon became frustrated with fellow addicts, middle men, and dealers who were dishonest and disloyal (big surprise). In order to be free from having to depend upon them to get me what I wanted, or for that matter, to be free from having to associate with them at all: I became familiar with the chemicals and supplies necessary to manufacture the type of meth I had grown to prefer. I applied my skills as a shoplifter to acquire supplies for local cooks in order to secure my own "cut" of the product... to my surprise most of these "cooks" were also "crooks" and I would get less than the amount agreed upon...which actually was the good case scenario, considering I was fortunate if I got anything at all. Most of these guys were so messed up that I may not see them for a month , and when I did see them, they would seldom remember they owed me anything. Even the more stable ones were very shrewd and unaccommodating in their dealings with me.
Eventually I got fed up with it all. I knew the supply list, and I was capable of acquiring all of the ingredients and supplies I needed. I felt as if my "expertise" was unappreciated and wasted on these ungrateful men, so I decided to approach one of them I believed to be trustworthy and honest, the only one whom I had found favor with. He had reservations about it and honestly I did too. He asked me why I wanted to learn. He saw a talented young man capable of much. He considered me to be "honest" and as someone having some sort of integrity. He said, "If I teach you this your life will never be the same". He knew that what I was basically asking for was a nail in my coffin, and I had a slight sense of it too which was afforded to me by my conscience. The desire of my wicked heart won out, and I insisted he teach me. Seeing as I was able to acquire free materials, it seemed lucrative for both of us. A short time later I moved up to the camp on "Devil's Elbow".
At 24 years old this was my answer to the problem all men are faced with. I took the reigns of my own addiction. I routed all outside variables I could into my own control. I eliminated my need for other dealers, other addicts, and any other outside help, and I seized upon the keys to my own kingdom, an empire of dirt, and I held the door. Or so I thought.
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Letters to the Editor (Hymnals and Tributes to Mom)
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