About the circumstances which led me to my condition I shall remain silent. The thousand pains and sufferings of my addiction are, I trust, well known to all of you who bear Queen Heroin's chain. I blush, I shudder, I weep to think of the multitudinous sufferings that came upon me during the dark days of the TOR Darknet DDoS -- circumstances which led me to send a message to a total stranger begging him surcease for my burden.
Thankfully, supremesmoke took pity upon me. Within a few minutes a price list appeared in my inbox. There were three levels of product. I chose the second, thinking it the best way to ascertain the true quality of his wares. But as the familiar trembling was beginning to grip my body I chose to spend $30 for express shipping.
The evening passed fitfully, as I had enough medicine to ensure slumber but not enough to give me true rest. I awoke to take stock of my dwindling reserves and wondered how long it would be before I would be forced to crawl broken and humiliated back to my nearest NA meeting. Then I was awakened from my reveries by a buzzer.
"Postman."
I ran down to the box, where a smiling blue-clad messenger of the Gods awaited me with a precious package. Inside was a grey-white gram of powder. The weight was correct, but only the next test would tell if I were to pass through the gates of ivory or the gates of horn.
A sniff! Ah, smooth with that sour sweat-sock tang I had grown accustomed to. Soon I felt the sweet, sweet relaxation of the poppies coursing through my body. The sunlight no longer burned as my pupils constricted back to their proper pinpoint place. The air was clear and fresh as Sunday morning in Eden: the endless blue sky promised fulfillment of all my hopes. Yes, this was her -- I was in the presence of QUEEN HEROIN herself. Bowing my head, I put the bill to my nostril and prepared to greet her again.
"Hail Supremesmoke!" I said as I snorted. "For he has achieved much greatness among vendors of junk."
I would never want to live my life this reliant upon anything.