![]() Today, when I ask him how the hospital’s been so far, the first thing he says is that there’s no Wi-Fi, he’s way behind on work emails. The first time we met, three years ago, he asked me if I knew a good place to do CrossFit. He is trim, intelligent, gluten-free, the kind of guy who wears a work shirt no matter what day of the week it is. Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea he used anything heavier than martinis. Jeremy is not the friend I was expecting to have this conversation with. He won’t tell me the exact circumstances of the overdose, only that a stranger called an ambulance and he woke up here. Jeremy is telling me this from a hospital bed, six stories above Seattle. About two years ago I switched to cocaine because I could work the next day.” When it’s gone, it’s like, ‘Oh good, I can go back to my life now.’ I would stay up all weekend and go to these sex parties and then feel like shit until Wednesday. ![]() “When you have it,” he says, “you have to keep using it. “I used to get so excited when the meth was all gone.”
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