Thursday, October 24, 2013

Guest Post "Another Day" by Bill

i sat at the bus stop and smoked my third cigarette while checking my phone. my man had said it would be forty minutes fifty minutes ago. i had been sitting there for half an hour. buses had come and gone, people dressed in their work clothes had gotten on those buses and cast confused looks at me when i remained seated. there was only one bus that stopped here, why on earth wasn't he getting on? i fought the nausea rising up from my guts, the cramping in my sides caused me to wince, i checked my phone again while i lit my fourth cigarette, wondering what other people did on their days off. 

i couldn't cop at my apartment. i was lucky enough some friends had a spare room they let me move into. they didn't want drug dealers going into their apartment, and i suppose i couldn't argue, i was a guest after all. my plans to move back home to be with my girlfriend fell through when she broke up with me. she no longer returned my calls. she told me i was a sociopath, incapable of love. i reflected on this while waiting, wondering if she was somehow right. she knew me better than anybody else did, having spent five years together she knew me better than anybody else. maybe i was insane and didn't know, maybe i didn't feel love or remorse. these days i only felt loneliness and rejection. i waited for my man to call me back so i could get high and forget about all of this. i waited for a chance to feel love, administered through a powder in my nose, the closest thing i could get to that feeling of laying in bed with a girl i loved and our cats. all i wanted now was just to get my dope and return back to my room, curl up in my bed and close my eyes. drift off into a daze for the rest of the day, forgetting my problems piling up like the cigarette butts around my dirty boots.

i eventually got the call, saying they were a minute away. i thanked him and hung up, threw my cigarette on the ground and stomped on it as the car arrived next to me. i got in and greeted the runner, told him it was a beautiful day. he briefly agreed while pulling out of the parking space, and asked me what i needed. i responded 'two', while pulling the cash i had already counted out of my pocket. $120. this would last me for the day, and hopefully into tomorrow morning long enough for me to make this trip again, hopefully this time without sweating and having my stomach twisting beneath my skin. i handed him the cash, he counted it while keeping one eye on the road, and spit a few bags out of his mouth. he made sure it was dope and not coke, wiped them on his shirt and handed them to me. 'in the mouth' he said, with broken english. they were obviously cautious of police, god knows there are enough of them circling these blocks like vultures on carrion. i did as i was told, briefly thinking of how i was possibly ingesting his saliva, wondering if there was any chance of catching anything from him, dismissing the thought as i positioned the bags under my tongue. he circled the block and let me out on the other side of the street. i thanked him and began walking towards the starbucks down the street, my mood elevated already.

i entered the lame coffeeshop and was greeted by an indifferent middle aged woman wearing a visor. i made sure that i had enough money to buy a coffee, a simple exchange just for the opportunity to use their single stall bathroom. most drug users have a map in their heads of establishments that have single stall bathrooms available, a rare sanctuary where you can break out a bag in peace. i laid out a credit card and untied the clear plastic bag, and poured a good sized line out onto the card. i rolled up a bill and heard a knock on the door. i responded that i'd be out in a minute, then sniffed half of the line as i gagged. the first little bit always seems to make me gag, regardless of size. i rested against the wall and waited for the feeling to pass, luckily i didn't have to vomit this time and had no dry heaves. i wouldn't want to have to make eye contact with the other customers after they heard me puking in the bathroom, it's never comfortable. i managed to get the rest of the line down, and flushed the toilet while unrolling the bill and putting the card and bill back into my wallet. i put the two bags which were now covered in my spit into my coin pocket. i washed my hands and made sure there was no powder visible on my nose. i sighed and looked at myself in the eyes, wondering who i was these days. wondering how long this would continue, how many more times i'd make this journey and how many more times i'd choose drugs over food. i exited and grabbed my coffee and headed back out into the streets. i decided i'd take the long way home through residential streets, i had done a big line and if i had to vomit it would be wiser to be on the side streets than the ones heavy with traffic. i wasn't in the mood to be a spectacle today. i thought of my ex while i walked home, wondering if there was anything i could say to her to make her hate me less. as i wandered through the side streets i wondered if there was anything i could do to make me hate myself any less. 

1 comment:

  1. My thoughts are with you. Don't ever quit trying to quit.