Monday, October 21, 2013

The truest words ever spoken.

" I think I am going to be get clean..." The words tapered off into the air. The hotel room is full of the medicated smell of burnt chore boy and butane. My lips are slightly numb. I took a hit of crack. I hate this shit. I don't know why i have to sell heroin so he can fuck off our little bit of extra money on crack. The room is a mess. Full of wrappers from candy, clothes on the bed, syringes, and cookers on the floor. I am trying to shake off a nod. It took me so long to get the money to pay for this room for another night, I am too tired to enjoy it. He sits on the edge of the bed. He is starting to pick at his hands. His tweak is tearing up the beds of his fingernails with small tweezers from a swiss army knife.

"Really. I'm so tired of this shit Spanky. I really want to try to get clean." It feels so nice to have my pants off and lay down on the bed. I have to count the money again. I need $12 for my dose in the morning. I already missed one day. If I miss four in a row, the clinic will kick me off. Trying to sell heroin and be on methadone is fucking me up on a daily basis. I got on methadone to STOP using heroin. Now here I am on both of them.

He finally turns to look at me. "well then do it, babe." He blows out the smoke. His eyes are getting bigger. He is going to want to do a hit of dope soon. The crack is eating up the last bit of precious opiates in his system. There goes my clinic money. This dope is to SELL not for us to do. If I come short, I will get cut off. I will have to replace the money one way or another. Between the room, the crack, and the little debbies there will be no more money left once I sell this bags. Plus, I cant watch him do a shot with out me. This is all we have anymore. No sex, just drugs and the love of them. I know he loves me. We didn't spend all that time cuddled up together in parking garages and alleyways to split up now.

"I want to get clean." I said it outloud. I want to manifest it in the universe. I want to get fucking clean. I don't know what clean is but I know I can't keep living like this in places where I am afraid to turn the light off. I need more from life than the constant hustle and spending an hour or more searching for vein. I need more than chipped teeth and rotting arms and shoving $500, mostly in singles, up my twat in a condom to bring them to the connection to death. I need fucking more than this.

I scratch my face and realize I fell asleep. I was dreaming, dreaming that I got clean. My boyfriend is searching for treasure on the carpet. "babe come up here." The room has no windows but I can tell it must be is daylight and time to go to work selling the last of this stuff. We can do just ONE shot. Fuck, I'm going to miss the clinic again. Maybe I will get clean. Not today though. I am too comfortable right here.

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