- One day I had his number. It came up in random, forced conversation. We hadn't spoken for years (since we didn't really speak in highschool). High off of my favorite cocktail of xanax and heroin, I'm crying in the bathtub. I'm starving. I hate everyone. Meth addicts crawl and breathe my air, contaminate my room. Showers and bath are the highlights of my day. Pressing my cheek on the cold tiles while scalding hot water burns the dirt of my skin. Dirty dirty dirty. I dry off my hands and snort meth. A pained moan. A pained moan then quiet laughter. I love the burn, the way it hurts so bad I hold my head tight. I kneel, pressing tightly for a few seconds. The rush hits me, and I'm happy again. I'm awake and I feel beautiful but my stomach is bleeding. My brain is bleeding. Xanax. More xanax more heroin. Dizzy, I sink back into the water. I'm ready to pass out.
- I call him, my words slurring into each other. I tell him I'm hungry and high, I haven't eaten in 4 days. I'm grinning, totally proud of myself. And then I'm angry. He wouldn't laugh with me. He pitied me. He felt sorry for me, sorry that I was in so much pain.
- "Itssh nottpainful I'm vvveryhigh rightnow... taking abathh" The rest is blur, but I remember telling him where I live and he ordered me food online.
- Two weeks later, I'm visiting him at his dorm. The air is fresh, for once I'm not breathing in the stale scent of meth and cigarrettes and sweat. I run. I stare endlessly out the window and watch students walk by. I want to cry. I could have been a student. I could have been normal. He takes me to a diner at 3 am because withdrawal was keeping me up.
- I'm smiling on the train ride home, a spider lands on my arm, I get lost in Manhattan.
- The addicts locked me out of my own place. I scream at them and kick the door until my foot is throbbing. I'm on the verge of tears as I walk in. My closet had been turned upside down, jackets and socks and trash covered the entire floor.
- They were looking for any pieces of meth they might have dropped. I start spewing and ranting mean things, provoked one into hitting me. I spit. Nothing hurt. It's not painful at all... It's not painful at all. I was stupid to think I would ever belong in college or new jersey ever again.
- One small sniff and sniffle later, I'm falling backwards into nothingness, the ceiling spins hyponotizingly, and I close my eyes and forget. Heroin had never been more comforting. This was what I knew.
- He berates me later, "I thought you would quit, I thought I could show you something better,"
- I laughed bitterly.
oct 15 2014 ∞
jul 31 2016 +