Ladies and gentlemen, I have something to confess. I have been trying to keep this hidden my entire adult life, but I can no longer keep living this lie, it must come to an end. The problem started a long time ago, and I am now certain that nothing can be done to save me from it. This problem I speak of, is my addiction to crack.
The problem started when I was just 12 years old. I began to notice there was something I desired, something I longed for, that I could not explain with words. It was the begining of my addiction.
I didn't know why I wanted the crack so badly, or what it meant, I just knew that it was a growing hunger inside me. I would dream about smoking crack at night, in the morning, during class. I thought about how I would convince a crack dealer to give me crack by trading them favors or showing them how much loyalty I could bestow them with if they provided me with just a little crack. I promised them I would smoke no one else's crack even though I really wanted to try a different flavor every day, but it was a promise I was willing to keep because I was told this is how crack trades are done and it seemed fair in my young mind.
But even though there were so many crack dealers in my school I couldn't get anyone to sell me some. I was lost and confused because people on TV and in the movies kept telling me that there are lots of nice crack dealers that just want someone who will love them in return for their crack, as long as you are a good hard working loyal person there is a crack dealer out there just waiting for you.
It was torturous and demoralizing to realize that I was so poor and unworthy that I couldn't possibly give a crack dealer what they wanted. I was nice, loyal, vigorous, and willing to compromise for just a small amount of crack, it didn't even need to be the best crack in town. Eventually I gave up trying to obtain crack and decided that since a steady source of crack must be impossible to come by, I should settle for dreaming about crack instead. As it seemed that no supplier in her right mind would give me crack for a reasonable price.
It kind of felt unfair that some guys seemed to get crack for free. Some crack dealers would give anything to give those men crack and expect almost nothing in return it seemed. It didn't make sense to me, because those crack addicts weren't even nice to them, which I was told they hated. I didn't understand why, until I realized what all those men getting crack for free had in common: they were all trading heroin for crack.
Heroin it turns out is much less common than crack, and harder to come by. It takes a great deal of knowledge, ability, and effort to manufacture heroin of high enough purity that a crack dealer will trade you for it, sometimes it can even take decades to perfect a recipe. I knew it was possible though, because I saw the heroin dealing crack addicts hard at work, and their results were astonishing. As the years went by I began studying how to make heroin myself. I kept trying harder and harder to make a good batch, in the hopes that I could finally get my hands on a steady supply of crack.
Occassionally I would succeed, after which I would quickly share my findings with other heroin manufacturing crack addicts. We slowly helped each other to make better and better heroin recipes, some of us came up with blends that were so addictive, crack dealers wouldn't even care if we sold our product to everyone in the town as long as they could have a little bit, it was like we had switched places with the crack dealers! It was amazing! We found this funny because crack dealers are notoriously territorial, and since us addicts are born this way we really can't set the price like they can. Or at least, not until we perfected our heroin.
Eventually we founded groups and organizations dedicated to the art of manufacturing quality heroin to trade for crack. Which gave us all access to better and better recipes we could try out. Of course, the crack dealers eventually found out about all of this and realized that we had been working to give them the heroin they all desired. Most of us thought this would be a good thing, because with their direct input we might be able to make even better heroin! And since they love heroin so much, they would be greatful to us for making the world a better place to find quality heroin.
Alas, our community was met with fierce anger. They were so mad that we worked hard to make them the heroin of their dreams... But this left us confused again. How could they be mad at us for giving them the only thing they are willing to trade us for their precious crack? I mean, it wasn't like we had a choice in the matter at this point... We tried to get stable jobs and support them in exchange for crack... but they turned us down. We tried being nice supportive sensitive husbands but they only give a small amount of crack for this, and some of us have severe crack addictions that this amount won't do much for. We tried giving them anything they wanted, encouraged them to work outside the home, and to let them make more decisions in our political process, but all of this just seemed to make them want heroin even more...
They kept telling us no they don't actually want heroin, heroin is just something they do for fun in their 20s but it's not really that addictive and eventually they don't need or want heroin at all. What they really want are all those things we tried in the past that they refused to trade us crack for! Of course, by this point we were all too wise to fall for this trick again, we had seen too many times in life their willingness to trade crack for heroin, so we know these are petty lies. So what did we do? We just said fuck it, and started mass producing heroin, the stuff they truly wanted. Sometimes I wonder if there is a price that crack dealers will ever be happy with, or if they are just going to spend an eternity asking for more and more. I don't really know, but I do know I'm going to keep perfecting my heroin recipe until the end of time.