"7am its time to get up boys, 7am, time to get up!"
I sit up and get dressed, having already been awake for hours im fine doing so. I make my way down to breakfast. boiled eggs and croissant. I eat the croissant, give away the eggs. no coffee today for me today, just juice. I leave the dining area into the main lobby…find a chair and sit down at one of the many tables, I take off my poncho and use it as a pillow, resting my head face down on the table. hours pass. half asleep/half awake. finally my friend whispers in my ear ‘tweet tweet little birdy tweet tweet’ a smile strikes my face and i life my head up to see devon standing there smiling. ‘where have you been m8?’ ‘oh well i ended up staying at that guys house the other night, I got myself a job and a place to live as well!’ hearing this makes my heart drop, I really liked devon, I enjoyed his company, enjoyed chatting with him, drinking with him, laughing with him, boy did he made me laugh. I wanted him to be mine, but now he was somebody elses. ‘Oh by the way I got a phone now too! whats your number!?” I give him my number and relax at the fact that at least now he can contact me… if he wants to, we can keep in touch, if he wants to. my friend, my only friend in this place is leaving me….
he sits next to me and we chat for a while, untill lunch time rolls around. ‘well im off to get some lunch, ill catch up with you later man’ we part ways as I get in line.
lunch is some weird fucked up looking soup with grilled cheese and french fries. I devour it. after lunch I talk to the front desk about ‘life house’ a program for addicts to get clean. he sends me up to a room on the third floor and I talk with a woman, she says I can get in within 3 weeks and Ill have to do regular piss tests and breathalyzers. im ok with that. I go back downstairs and leave the building. time to go back to the library and kill some time until 4 o-clock. as im leaving my oldtimer roomate motions for me to come over to him, I come over and he whispers ‘hey do you do 3s?’ i say ‘what do you mean 3’s?’ he says ‘tylenol 3s!’ ‘yes i say their allright in my books, any opiate is’ ‘do you want to buy any?’ ‘sorry man im completely broke :(’ ‘ok man, listen Ill shoot you 3 for free ok?’ ‘fuck man sounds awesome!’ he pulls out a bottle and pops 3 out. ‘thank you so much man i realy owe you!’ ‘you owe me 1$!’ 1$? fuck man thats cheap haha, I quickly pop all three and chase with water. I head to the library. fuck my lungs, I can feel the sickness really setting in hard, I feel diseased as I walk up the hill dragging my 10 pound luggage bag with me, fuck, by the end of this whole thing im going to be tanked man. I make it to the library and find a seat near an electrical outlet and charge my laptop, scrolling through facebook, tumblr, reddit. after a while I feel the codiene from the tylenol hit me. but its not enough. I know I have a 3/4s pint of rum in my kitbag…I think about it…consider it for over an hour while scrolling. I finally decide on it. I go to the bathroom and get in the stall and haul out the bottle. fuck. open it. tilt my head back and chug chug chug till the whole bottles gone. I place it on the ground next to the toilet and leave. back to my seat. the opiate is in full drive now, nothing compared to oxycontin or hydromorphone or heroin…but its still something, it makes me a feel a little more…comfortable.
"7am its time to get up boys, 7am, time to get up!"
so I was drunk, wandering around the shelter. I ended up meeting a crackhead from the shelter who said he could score some for me. sweet I thought. he took me across town to an area I didn’t know. He asked to use my phone for a second and I said sure but its almost dead. he took it and walked across the street to a group of guys sitting on a porch. he came back a minute later and said he got it. I said wheres my phone? he said he scored a 100$ piece for it.
Rage. fury. regret.
I said ‘wtf man that phone was my fucking life! I trusted you!’ he started quickly walking away from me. I said ‘so where is it?’ he said ‘where is what?’…mother fucker. I followed him for a few blocks and I couldn’t stand it anymore. when he stopped to take a blast from his pipe at a gas station I swung with all my might into the back of his head. he dropped his pipe and stumbled a few feet. he said ‘wtf man?’ I kept swinging. aiming for his eyes, his nose, his jaw. his fucking face. I wanted him hurt, I wanted him in pain. he held his arms up trying to block my swings to no avail. then the store clerk came running outside and said he’s calling the police. fuck.
I checked the crackheads pockets and found the bag, took off running down the street.
I ended up meeting another crackhead, this guy was an honest person tho, he had a pipe and I didn’t, I had no phone anymore, just a bag of crack. so we smoked for what must have been over an hour and then parted ways. somehow, someway, I found my way back to the shelter.
I slept well, but devastated that I no longer had a phone. my knuckles hurt man.
I can’t believe I trusted that fucker.
Im sitting at the shelter with my luggage bag, everything I own in a bag. the spirits around me are low, what do you expect really? people sleeping on the tables, people obviously going through hard withdrawals, shaking, shivering, sweating, some people argue relentlessly, others just stare at the floor. suddenly a man comes in the front door wearing a suit and sporting a silver cross. he then proceeds to walk up to every single person in there if they smoke, if they say yes he gives them 3 cigarettes. he reaches me and gives me 3, I say thank you so much.
A little goes a long way in here, but some are nicer than others.
that night, I was in bed, I wanted to drink…I had a half quart of jack daniels in my hand, the smell made me want to vomit. I decided against it, I gave it away to the guy in the bed next to mine, he was grateful. I then decided to walk to the store to get some beef jerky, my acceptable addiction. on the way, I met a man in his 50’s who said he liked my sweater, I asked if he had any buds I could buy, I haven’t smoked in a whilleee. he said no but he had a joint he would share with me. grateful as fuck, I walk with him to the park and smoke it with him. we chat and smoke cigarettes for a few hours and then I realize how late it is. we say our goodbyes and I head back to the shelter. Im feeling great, happy, content, high as a motherfucker. when I get into the shelter I look at all the poor souls sitting around the lobby looking and feeling like death. so I walk up to each and every one of them and ask if they smoke, if they said yes I gave them a smoke. I mean im not rich or anything but I can surely afford to give away 1 smoke each right.
I go back to my room and eat my beef jerky, feeling, content with myself for once.
so the other night I stole a bottle of wine and I drank it. my dad caught me and was pissed.
I was disgusted with myself, so I went to the kitchen and looked for a good sharp knife, I tried slicing my left arm with about 5 different knives in the drawer, none of them were sharp enough and only cut shallow. but then I found this 5 inch steak knife and it worked perfectly, it tore into my flesh like nothing, leaving a gaping trench of white flesh that soon cascaded with blood. it felt so good. then my stepmom came in the room horrified and took the knife off me. my dad took me to the hospital where they stapled the wound shut and covered it with gauze and tape.
I was at the hospital all night. in the morning he drops me off at my addictions councillor, opens the trunk and I see my bag is packed up. he says I cant come home with him. fuck.
so now im homeless, in a big city I know nothing about or where anything is. with no money, a dead cellphone, 1 pack of smokes, a huge and broken heavy as fuck luggage bag, and an arm that looks like I got attacked by a shark. I don’t know anyone here except my dad, and he’s abandoned me. I came to ontario to get ‘help’ and better myself, this is what I get for ever believing and trusting my dad. how the fuck am I going to get better now?
I would never do this to a family member, not in a million years, I guess his definition of family love is different then mine. wish me luck, I fucking need it right now.
As quite as a mouse, as quite as a mouse, as quite as a mousssseeeee………
I awaken but I can’t move my body.
Fuck. I havent experienced this for years man.
My eyes are wide open. Looking around my bedroom. I see a dark figure slowly walking down the stairs, speaking slowly in reverse talk. Fuck, not again.
I scream with all my strength,
‘Please someone wake me the fuck up!!!’
But I’m alone in the house, everyone’s at school or work. The shadow figure reaches a few feet from my bed when I finally regain movement. I sit up and slap my face.
No, not again.
The devil is inside and I fear for sleep tonight.
Hahaha yesss finally!
the sun is rising, Im walking on the snow covered road heading home with my brother and sister. not sure where Im heading from.
the blackout has just ended, i’m still spinning and wobbly legged, my left leg has a major limp, there is a black bruise the size of a basketball on my upper thigh, feels like a fucking knife man. my jaw kills and my mouth is all chewed up. all I can taste is blood and cigarette.
my sister informs me that I was railing hydromorphone and meth last night, not to mention all the liquor. it feels like there must have been something else tho.
were almost home. my brother takes off running into the field next to us, my sister takes off running up the road to our house. its freezing, I want to run too but my leg wont let me. Im alone.
I make it to the house, thank god, i’m so hungry. I remember the 3 frozen pizzas we bought yesterday in the freezer. I open the freezer door, gone, all three gone. theres nothing else to eat. I ask what the fuck happened to the pizzas last night? my brother says last night I thought it would be fun to throw them at cars on the overpass. FUCK!
Me and my brother decide to check the blackout book, his idea, a piece of whiteboard we have on the wall to write down things we need to do or thoughts we have when we’re blacked out. I look down the list, I have a math exam tomorrow and all the things I need to study for are there, fuck, I haven’t been to a class in weeks, i’m failed for sure. the last thing I wrote, ‘Im so fucked up I can barely see!’ written down barely legible, I have a good laugh at the thought.
I make my way over to the living room to smoke a left over oxycontin 80, It will make the pain disappear, falling onto the floor, knocking over dishes, cups and bongs on the way. I can barely fucking walk and the room is spinning like a fucking acid trip, chasing the dragon will straighten me out, get me that foil. My mom opens her door and comes out glaring at me. fuck. she says ‘Im going away for a while until you straighten the fuck up’. I yell back at her ‘fine fucking go! why don’t I just kill myself right fucking now and safe you the trouble?!’
she leaves the house. I look around, suddenly my brother is gone, my sister is gone, my mom is gone. I am again alone.
the house is a fucking mess and theres no food.
But I still have an oxy tho,
Just me and my oxy, all I fucking need.