Tweak: Growing Up On Methamphetamines

by Nic Sheff

Keeping my head above water suddenly doesn’t seem so tiring.

The blackness doesn’t swallow me up to such a horribly suffocating depth.

There’s a burning in my eyes and a choking in my throat. I don’t stop the game, but I can’t stop the tears from running down. I’m so grateful to have escaped that horrible depression I was falling into. I’m so grateful to be able to be here—present—not needing anything but this moment. I’m crying from relief and thankfulness.

How could I have spent my whole life battling so hard, not knowing what was wrong? Now I see a doctor and we talk for fifty minutes and this huge piece of the puzzle that was missing for me is suddenly revealed. How could I have lived so long never being treated for such an obvious mental illness?

Now is now. That’s what he always tells me. There is nothing but now and I try to hold on to that. The past is gone, the future hasn’t happened yet. This, right here, is all there is.

Zelda is maybe the most damaged person I’ve ever met. She had track marks scarred all over her arms and legs.

her. But I want her. It is a desire stronger than anything else and I’m not sure what to attribute that to. I know I’m sick. Maybe that knowledge is meaningless, though. Because I call. I just say, you know, fuck the consequences. And I call.

Pushing all the doubt and inner warnings to the side, I convince

myself that, in his perfection, this is God’s will for me.

All the little tricks and whatever that Spencer has taught me are suddenly all blanks in my mind. I can’t think of one prayer—one anything.

I think about how ugly I am. Maybe if I turn sideways or blink a whole lot I might look a little better, but it doesn’t work. Nothing makes me feel any more beautiful.

For the first time since I stopped using I’m craving a cigarette. I resist buying a pack, though.

The last time I talked to Zelda, she told me she was pregnant with Mike’s child and that she was going to use it as a sign that she needed to recommit to him.

She’s free and, you know, that’s what I’ve wanted all this time.

“Zelda, you know, I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I will devote everything to you if you’ll let me.” “Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “You’re so young. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

I think about her—about her life—about this obsession I’ve had with this girl for more than a year. The

My mind is going all over, and suddenly I feel guilty as hell. It’s as though I can barely stand lying in this bed. I’m not sure what to do, but I decide I have to leave.

I call Spencer at about ten and tell him everything that happened. I guess I’m trying to impress him—is that so fucking strange? And Spencer does seem impressed. “Just try not to get hurt,” is all he can say to me.

“That’s very poetic, Nic, I’ll say that much, but I also have to tell you that your grasp on reality right now is, uh, tenuous, at best.”

All I can ask of you is that you don’t get high. Be willing to go through this and not use. That’s all I’ve got for you.”

I’d pay any price. Zelda is more important to me than anything else.

In some ways, it feels like I’m making love to a cripple. She is so hurt and confused and there is something very erotic about that. Does that make sense? Probably not. I do realize I’m sick.

They say Zelda is unstable and dangerous to my sobriety. Plus they’ve all noticed how obsessed I’ve become with her. I never want to leave her side. I want to sew her to me.

“I love her,” I say. “You love the idea of her, Nic,” he says. “You don’t love her.”

I feel like I can be her savior. Maybe that’s grandiose, but really, that’s how I feel.

if there is a God that’s all-knowing and all-powerful, then surely he has orchestrated this whole thing. Why else would I have been delivered to Zelda, as I have been? That is my logic.

I hold Zelda with such aching—never wanting to let her go. I’m going to protect her forever. The feelings are so deep in me. We both cry and I feel her tears on me.

Zelda has become my whole world.

I feel this cold heat inside and I’m suddenly terrified that Zelda is going to leave me. I want to call Spencer but I know he’s asleep. I lie on the bed, just trying to shut my eyes—to make it all go away.

And now I think about using. I find myself wishing so bad that I knew where to score some crystal. A shot would take all the pain away and I wouldn’t care at all. But as it is, I do care.

Shooting crystal was the only way I ever got to connect with that “oneness” in the past. On the verge of death—chemicals turning my blood to poison—barely able to speak or move—in that helpless state of drug addiction,

experienced a sense of connection with the very essence

death and life that has been u...

want to be her brother; I want Michelle to care about me like she cares for her daughter. I just wanna start over—with Jasper and Daisy—with Lucy.

But, sadly, I know that is all a fantasy. I have to live as myself and that I can never escape—no matter how hard I try. So,

He always says, “What you’ve been doing hasn’t been working, so why not follow someone else’s direction for once?”

me. Now I suddenly feel like things have changed—like maybe Spencer should be taking advice from me.

She is everything to me. She has given me a feeling of purpose, of completeness. It’s what I’ve always wanted. She is what I’ve always wanted—she is better than crystal meth. I mean, she is. I’ll do whatever it takes to never lose her.

Really, you know, I’m just tired of listening to him. What is he, after all? A wannabe movie producer who lives in West L.A. in a nothing house, with a nothing wife. I don’t admire him anymore. How could I possibly take direction from him? He has nothing I want. I’ve just outgrown him.

I need a different sponsor. I’m sure of that. I mean, just two days ago I celebrated my one-year anniversary. I need to move on in my sobriety.

letting her borrow various

The feeling comes out of nowhere as I’m walking up there—but suddenly, I want to use real bad. I mean, I’m kinda hoping he’ll have some coke I can shoot. The thought doesn’t even scare me.

Zelda puts a cigarette in her mouth and I watch her take a few drags. “You think I could have one of those?” I ask. “Of course, baby.” She hands me a Parliament and watches me light it. She laughs.