Friday, May 13, 2011

10: It's over.

Everything is so trivial and pointless. What's the purpose of doing anything? I look at the lazy, swaying clouds against the dirty brown/blue sky, wishing I had their lifestyle, their responsibilities. I move my gaze down, closer to the rusty flights upon rusty flights of fire escape, and look at the ground. This awful ground supporting this awful building. This ground that I'm helplessly tied to, with no hope of escape.

I suppose I could just end it. End it All right now. And never be afflicted with another illness. Never have another craving to the point i'm in tears and can't breathe. No more struggle. No pain... I could just be... Over

The door busts open with a bang, and I duck behind the low ledge above the fire escape. A man stumbles out carrying another man over his shoulder. I recognize this incapacitated fellow as "Remus," but i've never seen the other man before.

He lays Remus out on a bench and I can see that he is covered in blood. The Other Man has a rifle. I'm briefly terrified that I'm about to witness a murder, but Remus comes to, and I hear them arguing.

A cop had beaten him senseless, and the Other Man was livid, shouting about the injustice done. He mentions that the cop would learn about "Consequences," as he mounts the side of the building, aiming the gun down at the street. I've never witnessed anything like this... and being sober has left my mind unbearably exposed and insecure. I am brought to the verge of tears from my unknowing and fear. And before all fear seeps away, the worst of them gives me a jolting affirmation.


"YOU CANT JUST SHOOT A COP!" Remus was yelling. I kept watching, intent to figure this whole thing out. Maybe there were people more fucked up than me in the world after all.

A group of police burst onto the roof, yelling for them to stand down. I hid, a little lower, to not be seen, but still enough to watch. With a motion that could only be described as motivated determination, The Other Man pressed the gun into Remus's grasp, and stepped off the roof.

He makes it look so easy. Why do I not possess such courage? Why do i break down and cry faced with that pressure? I'm not sure how I should feel about what I just saw, but jealousy seems somehow... wrong.

Remus looks around, taking in his surroundings. I can tell that he doesn't really want to. But maybe, its just the only way sometimes. He puts the barrel to his chin and another.


I've seen enough. Seeing his unease unsettled my stomach, and my eyes. tears dripped down onto my cheeks, and I tried to control myself. I went swiftly down the fire escape, while the Police were busy, and dropped the last 10 feet or so, landing roughly in a half-roll.

I sat there, in the alley, thinking about everything I'd witnessed. Things are really hard, "unbearable" even, but that wild determination, bordering on helplessness that the men had. It was a feeling I could hardly comprehend. I suppose it's not my day to die... It was theirs.

Things can always get worse.. I light a cigarette and let the smoke pour out of my mouth, towards the lightening sky.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

9. I think I can, I think I can...

Court's at 5. I'm getting ready and all my lights go out. Fuckin electricity... I open the blinds to a grimy window that is so caked in with neglect and debris that it barely lets any light through. DAMN. I'll just bring my makeup with me, do it in the bathroom or something. I pop a few more of my pills, and hobble down to the front door. When i get off the elevator, i'm struck with this amazing sensation. The smell of sweet Cherry Pie floods my mind with memories of back home. Before all this, before it all went to hell. Tears well up from sorrow and nostalgia, and hunger wells up from that sweet sweet Cherry Pie. New Mission: The Bakery. I've gotta get some of that Pie!

The line's going out the door, people shoving and pushing. What the hell? this must be some damn fine pie! My mouth is watering, but I cant risk missing my court date... I try to push towards the front but there's no way... These people mean business.

In a booth near the door, I see Billy Farsk, happier than I've ever seen someone about a slice of pie. It almost convinces me to stay in this god forsaken line, but I've decided I cant destroy my life any longer. I've gotta get to court.

I hop on the train and head towards the city courthouse.

The judge is an older man, greying hair and a receding hairline, with a weight ratio a little biased towards his middle. I was alternating between batting my eyelashes and worrying about the outcome. I thought about my past, hoping my charges as a minor wouldn't effect his decision. My final sentance, 6 months probation for possession of drug paraphenelia. I thank the judge humbly and walk out.

6 months clean. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. How many times do you have to say something before it's true? I hope there's a number..... I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.....I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.............................................

Saturday, April 30, 2011

8. What is "Choice?"

I need some good food. I'm fuckin' tired of ramen noodles. Tomorrow is my court date, So i figure I need to clean up soon. But NOT TODAY. I go up to the roof where some kid thinks its incognito to grow marijuana, and a good handful of buds off of his plant.

The pain seeps away from my leg, and a smile creeps its way onto my face. I'm laughing at the clouds, and pretending they're animals... I feel a rumble in my stomach, *Grrgaowllllll*

Strip clubs have the /best/ hot wings. I order a double shot from this waitress girl. Cute, but a little on the heavy side. Guess that's why shes not dancing... She looks a little down, so I get her a shot as well... I'm eating my platter of wings, and imagining the life of this chicken. Bred to be on this plate. Was i bred for something? I start wondering...

Maybe i was bred to fuck up, and get abandoned by my family... Or is it all my fault? I'd like to imagine its not but in all reality it's probably my fault.... Do I have a choice? The chicken didnt, that's for damned sure... And Im so glad it didnt. Damn I love these wings....

I'm better off than these girls dryhumping a stage, at least... Well, I'd like to think... But really, its their choice, i suppose...

Do i have a choice... That's the 16,000 dollar question right there... I could handle stopping. I think. Provided nothing overwhelming happens and I'm not higher than 30 feet off the

Back to the wings.. All this "thinking" is getting to me.... I wipe a tear from my cheek.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

7: Hydrocodiene

I woke up to dingy walls... I can't tell the color yet... and a dim light. My senses ease back into focus and I realize i'm in a... Hospital? I run through the events in my mind, and struggle. I remember, an explosion... and Charlie Sheen. No, that can't be right... I don't get it. I have massive headache. I must have Overdosed.... I'll just.... I'm fading again..


A nurse wakes me up. She says the explosion put shrapnel through my leg. its broken. And they pumped my system. In her eloquence, "Enough Coke to kill a mule." I'm honestly a little impressed with myself. My leg throbs with pain with each beat my heart makes. The IV's running into my arm aren't delivering enough to satisfy the pain... I'm passing out again..........................

Okay, I'm alright now. The doctors have me hopping around on crutches, doped up on Hydrocodeine. I'd love a line or two, but Last weekend's Overdose has me a little scared. I don't know what to do. I'm realizing slowly that this life of mine could kill me.

My court date is in a few days. I'm in pain. So tired of being in the house... I decide to go for as much a walk as my shattered shin can take. I see a pickup driving down the way with an ATM loaded in the back.

"Just my luck." I think. "I go /near/ a crime and get arrested. These people just driiive off like no big deal..." Fucking unfair life. Putting me in the line of fire.... There's another girl watching.. Kitty something. I doubt she'll call the police. Shit, I wouldn't either. Thats not the "watershed" way...

I don't get too far past the first block before i'm in too much pain to go on. I turn back, grimacing with each hobble, and make my way back home... Hydrocodeine...... 9 please.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

6: It's a dream... In a flash

Dazing off into the sky. Charlie's blabbering away about his life story, and I cant help but not care at all. He's a great guy and all, I just cant see straight. I can't tell whether I'm sitting or laying down. The shed behind us is buzzing with activity, apparently.

I'm vaguely aware that there's smoke and fire coming out of it, if only for the people running around like there was a fire or something. Charlie tries to pick me up, but I'm intensely concentrated on the pebbles of the gravel road the food cart is set up on.

There's a massive, booming sound. I see people running. I'm trying to peice together the events, and have a strange mix of extasy and being ashamed that I'm not coherent enough to understand. Is this real? I see... a giant baby. is that a giant baby? I can hear nothing. This must be real. A wave of panic sets in, but i still cant convince my body to move.

I fade..............

I'm a child. riding my bike. my parents are proud that I can finally do it... I'm at my 12th birthday. My first experience with liquor... My parents spend all night cleaning up my vomit.... I'm 16, my first time getting arrested. My parents are "at their last straw." I'm 19, getting kicked out of my house. My vision closes on my last memory... Laying on gravel, surrounded by smoke and flames, coked out of my mind and not caring at all that i'm......

Thursday, March 10, 2011


A few weeks go by, I'm trying to grasp the concept of sobriety. I could run to canada.
no money.
fuck it.

I've never been able to carry through with an idea. Outside my window, there is a carnival. Theres no money in the house, no drugs either. I cant stand the pressure of the thick, stagnant air around me. Tainted by the smell of last weeks trash, which i woke up too late to take out last thursday. and hastily covered by the stale bitterness of cheap cigarettes. I walk downstairs, trying to escape my mind in the carnival, so skewed from reality. What a fucking place to have a carnival. the worlds most uncheery place... Maybe the carnies would fit in... along with everyone else who doubts they can.

I find my way into the carnival, and can't stand the loudness. all around me is a wall of sound. children, (where the fuck did children come from? i've always hated children) carnies, (small hands, smell like cabbage) creaking machines, and heavy laughter. not the lighthearted, "i'm-a-kid-and-don't-have-bills-to-pay,-oh-look-a-shiny-object!"kind of laughing, the kind of laughing that you force out to hold back tears of despair and the crushing weight of life.

HOLY Shit my day just took a massive turn. Hopefulness creeps up the backs of my legs as i pass THE charlie sheen. I put on my best fangirl smile and run up to him, hoping he's coked out to the point of sharing with a kind young lady...

He's so nice in person. He invites me to come hang out at the food vendors, apparently there's bootleg booze and coke behind it. Sounds like a rape-and-kill situation, but hey, how many chances do you get!

When we get there, i'm shocked. Pastor Dan, couple lines of coke.. wha-wha-whaaat???

Friday, January 14, 2011

4: Nothing is Forever

23 hours in this hell hole… I get out of the police station, and fall flat on my ass. damned ice. I've always hated the weather.

"I told you you'd end up in some shit. I'd have to save your ass and now your putting the entire family through all this crazyness-"
"Mom…" I begin, but am cut off quickly.
"Don't fucking 'mom' me. get your ass off the ground. The usual way. and literally."

My mother bailed me out of jail. That'd be nice but she wants to be paid back with interest. and knowing her there's at least three other alterior motives. Shit. Running out of money at home. I can't handle this stress. I bid my "mother dearest" farewell and ride the train back to watershed heights.

I still have 50$ on me from when i got arrested. I walk to the pharmacy. I pass some yuppie, Jaques Cartes, and his eyes cut me like daggers. disapproving of me, his sense of entitlement raging. As I walk, I contemplate my position. I don't really care about jail, or fines, or lawyers, or anything... When I really think about it, I'm afraid of being on probation. Being trapped inside the law, with no escape. A raven tied to a brick labeled "reality." And clipped wings. I make my purchase. And steel myself against the truth. That this isn't forever.