Nampa: Revealed

NAMPA: REVEALED 

I'm sure you all were astounded at the claims made. These events have plagued my conscious far to long, i feel that is now time to dig deep within our town to expose the secrets and lies we have webbed ourselves into.  Nampa in fact is a spiderweb, the closer to the center of the web... the closer you are to death, those that lay in the out skirts of the web have a better chance of escape, and a prolonged life, the spider that Nampa has become may never find you if you stay far away. 

There are so many places i can start; almost so many that i am overwhelmed with the foulness of my thoughts.Should i start from the beginning? The end? I cannot help but stop and think that the stories continue, everyday something new is added to the tales, so how could i ever begin from the end? It's not that easy. The end has no ending. With these thoughts, i have come to an ultimatum. I will first post a collection of stories, ones that will reveal the most disturbing things i have witnessed, been involved with, been around, or heard about. I'll post in chronological order, and eventually i will get to whats currently happening behind the tightly locked doors of Nampa.

I remember the first time I shot up. I suppose we all do. It was dirty, so dirty. Tiny room, in a very tiny unkempt house, i never even questioned the sanitary factory that i should have. I was told the needle was clean, never questioning the morals of the person wielding the bliss stick. I was terrified, but i would never let my peers see my weakness. No men don't show weakness.I watched, very interested as the concoction was mixed up. I had my choice Oc 30 or Coke, i chose the Oc. My pill was powdered on a slightly wiped down glass desk, a desk that look well used for drugs. The pill dissolved, turning the liquid in the spoon a gray/whitish color. However scared i was, i was more interested. As i tightened the shoelace around the crook of my elbow, my perfectly fresh, undamaged veins protruded. The flag was easy, instant, i didn't even feel the needle pierce my skin. What came next though I felt, i felt the rush from every pore in my entire body, my eyes rolled back, my hair raised up, goosebumps came up like blades of grass; i hoped that moment of eternal bliss would never end. I felt good, so good in fact that i no longer cared. A friend proceeded to get his shot, i supposedly had the last clean needle and i witnessed my needled being strained with water and told it was clean after you did that. I knew it was wrong, was my "clean needle" actually disgustingly dirty? I should have cared, i should have rushed to the hospital, i should have stopped him from continuing to shoot up people with the same needle, i should have stopped this act, but fact is; I no longer cared. One of the guys took his, and then another, it looked like way to much, he dropped and remained unresponsive, i felt it was so wrong to leave him there, but no one else gave him a second look. What if he died? Their answer? No you wouldn't die, everyone always regained consciousness after time. I kept looking at him, wondering how he could live, barely breathing, eyes white; as the pupils had rolled completely to the back of his head. This was so disgusting, so immoral, so wrong, but no one cared. Nampa would kill me. No doubt in my mind, the addicts to the needle would die with the needle. They're still addicted. I hoped i wouldn't be the same. It has only gotten worse... for everyone.