Motjaba A.

mojiDOB: 6/8/59; Tehran, Iran.

Click Here for Addict Out of the Dark and into the Light – 10_Motjaba.mp3

Being a pimp was always to me an insult. Who me a pimp, man? I was pimping that girl, man,

If you look at it that way. All of a sudden I loved her, she said she loved me, but sitting at home waiting for money, that’s pimping ain’t it, that’s what a pimp does. That wasn’t love. We were dope partners, that’s all we were. That’s what dope does to you. You get to the lowest you can get. Deeper than a bottom.

I just got out of jail this morning. As far as I remember, I was born an addict. I say it today, I better believe in this shit. When I was practicing outside, I was a junkie. I was an addict. It like cursing my out. No, I’m not.

Anyway, I don’t even know when I started using drugs. I really don’t I don’t remember. I was maybe twelve or thirteen. I don’t even remember. I started sucking hash, partying and all, with classmates and other friends. Not going to school, shooting pool, a whole bunch of shit like that. Being high all day.

Started smoking heroin when I was seventeen, in eleventh grade in high school. Two months later, the first time I ever smoked heroin, my mother found the shit in my pocket, asked me what it was. I said, “This is the kind of powder they gave me in order to stay awake to study, because I have to take a test tomorrow in school, sl I’ll be awake all night.” That poor woman, she went for it.

Second time she found it, and it’s summer time, you don’t go to school. She took it to somebody she knew and they said, yeah, that was heroin. That was like a test, my son.

When I was eighteen was when I first got methadone. She took me to a methadone clinic and shit. Check me out. I started taking meth. I didn’t like it because I couldn’t smoke no heroin on top of it. Seriously, I didn’t like no methadone because I wouldn’t feel no heroin. So I stopped taking meth, because to me damn methadone was a kind of medication. I was so hard headed, man. I just wanted to stay up and party.

When I was eighteen I graduated from high school. Since my Father was in the Army, he made some kind of deal, some kind of shit, that I didn’t go into Service. My younger brother, two years younger than I, he was in eleventh grade of high school, came to the United States, was allowed. They were going to send us both over here. Since I was a junkie, they said you don’t deserve it. So they sent him over here. They sent me to Germany, because it was closer to back home. They could keep their eye on me. I went down there instead of going to college.

I started shooting dope because you can’t smoke it there. That was another lesson I learned. New shit, shooting, and I liked it. I don’t want to remember that shit. I don’t like to think about it.

I never finished college. Went up to second year somehow, I don’t even know how. I came about four years ago to the United States from Germany, because I couldn’t do nothing over there. I came over here. So I was going to stay with my brother.

I am the one who has messed up my life. I can’t go right. Rucking messed up my brain or something. I just got bored right away. That’s the hardest time I think I had in my life, the last couple of years, because I felt myself the loneliest man in the especially the people who loved me, my family.

I came to a meeting of recovery about two years ago by an accident. Somebody told me to go to this meeting, it helps. I came to the meeting and it did help, but I got bored. Again I couldn’t handle it. One shot fucked me up. The first shot. So I went back out, came back in, went back out, came back in. I am kind of embarrassed to go to a meeting. Because I feel that everybody is looking at me, this asshole, he can’t make it.

Bu t I am going to make it this time. I like pain. That’s what I think I am. I can’t just stay. Every time I don’t have any pain and everything’s going right, I’ll find some type of path for myself, some kind of shit, some kind of excuse to go out and use dope.

But I don’t know. When you use dope and when you are shooting, ripping, and running outside, you don’t realize what the fuck it was, what you’re doing. You can’t take it that you are a junkie, you’re a thief, you’re a pimp sometimes.

That a pimp was always to me, was an insult. Who me, a pimp, man? I was pimping that girl, man, if you look at it that way. All of a sudden I loved her, she said she loved me, but sitting at home waiting for money, that’s pimping, ain’t it? That’s what a pimp does.

That wasn’t love. We were dope partners, that’s all we were. That’s what dope does to you. You get to the lowest you can get. Deeper that a bottom. And every time I go clean I thought thta that was my bottom. Went back out. Obviously it wasn’t. I hope it is this time. Ego, ego. Being proud of it.

You’re not that shit. You’re not that thing but you think you are. Because like somebody else is. Like my parents is that, my brother is that. So I’m that too. Fuck that, you’re nothing, you’re nothing bu a junkie. Junkie steals, lies, sleeps on the fucking streets, park bench.

I still can’t take shit form nobody. Who me? I even stole a car least time before I went to jail. I never thought I was going to steal a car. Me stealing a car like the big shit, I did it, the car I was driving, the last car I stole, I didn’t go and steal it. I went to the guy and told him I was going to pay later on, through the car, gave me the title and everything. I never paid him. I never paid the man. Man, the car broke down on the highway.

I left the car. The car wasn’t even mine, so bye. Shit. Six, seven years ago to me, somebody like me today was, wow, wow, a bog criminal. That’s all I am today, man, a record, a criminal record. A criminal. I always thought I was a sensitive man, a sensitive, a good boy, who shoots dope, who get high, so what?

And that being a fucking criminal. I don’t know, I might have killed somebody, fuck it, and kept on going. I would have ended up killing somebody and kept going, for anything, maybe for forty dollars, I don’t know. Seriously. Stick somebody up for whatever.

Longest clean time I ever had was six months, not even six months, five months and some days. Anyway, I just got out of jail today. That was another experience, D. C. jail. I never thought I could make it going to D.C. jail. I can’t make it. I can’t handle it. That’s a big deal. That’s a whole bunch of assholes. I can’t make it. I made it. I think now I can make it if I go to bigger jails, penitentiaries and shit. If I go I’ve got to make it.

That’s why I’m not trying to go, man. This time I hope I won.
If you’re clean, it does feel good. Like I said, I get bored, being like, okay. I want a vacation. One shot, I’m done. Man, that shit changes everything about me, my personality, everything, everything. I become a piece of shit.

It does. It made a criminal out o f me. I used to be a . . . The whole family, everybody else was pointing to me, like telling their kids, “You know, see him, learn from him, see how polite he is, see however, whatever this and that he is.” I ended up, you know, everybody else try to get their kids away from me, because I was a junkie. “Don’t hang out with him.”

In high school I thought I was a big shot. God, I was a God. I never believed in God, man, never. Only time I believed in God was the time I was in trouble. Just asking something, somebody, you know, help me. Help me to get out so I can start following things. Don’t keep me in jail, don’t keep me here in hospital. Don’t keep me here locked up home. Shit, do something, God, if there is a God. Always wanted something for Him. Everybody, everybody, do something for me. Because I don’t know who the fuck I was. Expecting everybody to do shit for me.

All I know is that is was bad, man. It was fucked up, fucked up. You know, like when I was nineteen, back in Germany, I used to fuck old women for money. Seriously, fifty five, sixty years old, sometimes fifty year old women, used to pass me around to each other for money. Fifty marks, sixty marks, sometimes a hundred marks, using their cars, driving their cars. I was a handsome, cute little boy. I’m not that no more, any more, anyway.

I start to shoot dope, I became so ugly and skinny and shit, man, not even faggots would look at me. Yeah. So, I’ve got to go start hustling, steal, lie, pimp. Shit, I hate that word. I’d rather be a thief than a pimp. I always thought I loved the girl and that she loved me. She wanted somebody, I wanted somebody too. She wanted protection. I wanted dope. We were nothing but two dope partners. I don’t even know where she is. I don’t want to know where she is.

Life becomes so ugly, ugly, when you look at it from this point. And every time you get busted it gets worse, it never, never gets better, never. I’m tired of going back and forth to jail. I swear to God I am tired. This morning in jail I called Pre-trial Services to find out about my case, pending cases I have and my bond and everything.

So, I told the man on the phone y case numbers, right? He said, “Okay, what’s your name?” I said, “Motjaba Ahmadi.” He said, “No, that’s not your name. “ I said, “Okay, what do you thin my name is?” He said, “Torroles Ramirez.” Spanish name. I said, “No, it’s not.” He said, “Yes, it is. It says that on the computer.”

And I used so many names last year, cashing all those checks, I didn’t remember they had some names on the computer on me too. I said, yeah, you’re right, but ny name is Motjaba Ahmadi, too, not only that, yeah, that was another name that I used. Shit.

Anyway, that was funny too. I was worried. That wasn’t funny then. The man told me my social security number, birthday, and everything. I didn’t even remember I was using the whole thing last year.

I gave my Mother three strokes or heart attacks. By she getting the bad news about me, finding dope in my pocket. My son has become a junkie, a heroin addict. The second time hearing about that I was shooting dope over in Germany. The third time, when I O.D.’ed, she found me in a locked door bathroom, right next to the pool I was pretending that I was taking a shower.

After everybody else was swimming, I’m in a locked door bathroom for two or three hours. And she missed me finally, came to the window, saw me laying down with the works in my arm, needle. So, she broke the window and came in and saved y life. And all that shit after I came back home.

I was in the hospital. She goes and sits down and she had the third heart attack. And that’s sad. I don’t know what I would do if she died. I mean for me, because of me. I would kill myself. That’s killing people. You don’t only hurt yourself, you hurt a whole bunch of people.

Click Here for Addict Out of the Dark and into the Light



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