The cocaine makes you feel okay, keeps the fear at bay, allows you to make another sales call. When you’re high, you imagine that everyone awaits your arrival, that your petty business deals amount to something. The streets all look like beaches, and everything is about you. The whole gang loves you and is excited to see you. They think you’re a hero, especially that tall blond. For a while, you feel so powerful. But it’s all a delusion, a chemically induced dream. You know down deep you will die someday and that you’re not leaving a mark. The fear is getting closer. There is an emptiness inside. You have to call your dealer. You have to get some help.