I am an addict, addicted to feeling completely sedated. A feeling of floating that kills all brain cells addicted to numbness and dumbing down of senses; pins and needles pin pointing my needs. The only meaning to me behind the words, “cold turkey,” are the left-overs I scarf down. High off of so many substances I lose count and take another bite. Roaming through life like a lost dog I lose all concept of time. Months? Years? Seasons? Even days blur together in one psychedelic jumble.
Darkness...
I wake up and walk to the next room only to see what once was a kitchen, now turned into a laboratory. Then again, I'm not sure whose house this I am in. Maybe it was always like that. I walk past a tear-away calender, March 22.
“It's my birthday...”
I sigh and continue my trek towards the bathroom, not because I need to go but because it is the only place I can be alone. I step over three still unconscious students. At least they have an excuse for being here. They are still young and foolish. Perhaps they'll out grow this stage before it's too late. Maybe they'll wake up before they end up being a thirty year old addict still running the party circuit of a college town. A drug dealer whose only income is spreading the very poison he consumes in lethal doses. It's ironic really, I used to despise the old guys who were at all the parties, hitting on the young girls and using them through paying them with free drugs. I'm that guy.
“I hope that girl from last night was legal,” I wonder.
Let's face it, it's been a long while since anything I've done was legal. She looked not a day older than sixteen but who knows? She said she was eighteen and that's what matters, it's not like I card.
I sit down on the porcelain. Through a small window above me a ray of sunshine beams on my face like a laser beam from star trek set to blind. I shield my eyes. When was the last time I've seen the sun? I can't even remember. Like a vampire with a hang over I quickly hide in the shadow. Only I didn't turn into dust and disappear. I reach into my pocket and pull out my shades. I laugh to myself as I realize that my perception of life is like these shades. Everything I see is darkened by my warped ideas of how to exploit it for my own monetary gain or more devious personal pleasure which is the true harlot of all my misdeeds to whom I am forever enslaved. Enough of this serious self examination.
I light up a joint that I saved from the night before and drift into oblivion. This was the good stuff. The premiere merchandise I saved only for myself. The stuff that's laced with things I can't even pronounce. I feel a little better now. I think I'll go grab a leftover beer and head across town to meet my supplier. Then I'll just let myself wander 'til the next time I wake up somewhere. Then I'll begin it all again. “Happy Birthday to me.”
Posts
