I went from cleaning shooting sites, using fresh points, etc. etc., got REALLY good at it, to being so broke that I couldn't afford to buy more materials, and being so addicted that I couldn't hold a job to continue to buy more needles. I had a shitload of meth though. I used to pride myself in using only clean, unused needles, and being so meticulous and clean about it. That shit went out the window as my addiction showed its true face and descended into desperation.

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So I dug into my gallon jug of disposed needles, or ripped open trash bags I had stashed in the closet from being too paranoid to throw them in the trash can outside and got needles out from there, and would bleach them out thoroughly, but some of them were really old as I ran through the somewhat fresh-ish ones, so they had dried up blood stuck to the inside of them that I half-assedly wiped out with a cotton swab. I ran out of bleach and started using rubbing alcohol to disinfect them instead. It got to the point where each and every re-used needle I had re-used again got so dull that I could no longer register. I remember crying sprawled on my floor in complete and utter defeat because I just wanted to get that hit so fucking badly, at all costs. I remember being unable to muster saying anything but "What the fuck?" over and over and over. I had a meth pipe but I wouldn't have it any other way.

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Eventually I resorted to taking one needle that I thought might be the least dull of them all, but it was big gauge, and I had one fat vein available that I used less than others, but only because it was directly above an artery and extremely dangerous with a dull needle. When you have a needle really dull you risk it SUDDENLY piercing the skin and going through the vein with WAY more force than is necessary, so I went really really really slow with it and basically ripped through the skin, so softened the angle as I ripped into the vein. Using a needle so many times dulls it to the point of it creating a barb. I got the hit, and removing it made me shriek like a fucking girl.

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It wasn't long before I eventually got locked up and began my path of recovery. I'm at 9 months clean now. I'm lucky to have never caught an infection, and my once favorite veins are in perfect shape. I'm focusing on the things that had led me to fill a void with drugs, and while this is certainly the harder way to go about life, it's also MUCH less brutal.

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Cheers.