Sunday, April 5, 2015

Happy Easter

"Are you done yet?" he asks.

I attempt to ignore this person. Why do people find it necessary to approach a random stranger in the park. I hate being a woman alone in this world. He can't stop me from completing my business. I am searching through my backpack for some dope I am sure I lost a few days ago. I tried to shove it in a hole I cut near the zipper. Now, it has disappeared. More than likely, it disappeared in my arm but it doesn't hurt to look. Today is going to be an awesome day. I am well, for once. It is nice to get off that bag chase. I even brought some snacks along with me when I left my room this morning. I got some vanilla wafers I plan to dump into my pint of milk. My teeth hurt from the sugar but I don't mind. 

The man moves even closer to me. "I said," he says more forcefully "are you done yet?!"

I am not sure why this person finds it necessary to single me out. This is a public space. I have just as much right to be here as anyone else. Not sure what is going on today but the park is empty. I got a space all to myself in the middle of the lawn. I feel almost...normal. I left my rigs, my cooker, and my tie back at the room. I am enjoying a chance to get away from the Tenderloin for a little while before I have to plan my next move. I even brought the sheet off my bed. I spread it out carefully on the grass like I was having a real picnic. I took my shoes off, my hoodie. My track marks look faded when I let them get a little bit of sun.  

The man is not leaving. "Am I done with what?!" I ask him.

 I truly am confused by his behavior. He isn't dressed for a day at the park, either He has on a light blue button up shirt with khaki slacks and dress shoes. He is clean shaven, well groomed. He reminds me of the kind of person that feels superior to me yet snorts a little bit of coke on the weekends. He is the type that drinks and drives yet is bothered by me sitting alone in the middle of the park. 

He leans down. I assume he is trying to intimidate me. 
He asks me in a low voice "Are you done shooting up or whatever the fuck you are doing here? I got my kid over there...." He points to a small group of women and children. 
" Can't you get the fuck out of here? We  re about to have an Easter Egg Hunt!"

Now I get it. He has promised his girl and his kid that they are going to have an Easter Egg Hunt here. The junkie in the middle of the lawn is fucking up the photo opportunities. This is probably his girlfriend and her kids. The probably of him getting laid later increases exponentially with her having the perfect Easter Experience.

My mind goes into junkie overdrive. "Well" I tell him "this is a public place. Give me a reason to leave."

He exhales loudly as he looks over at the little family that is waiting. He has to be the big man here. 
He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his stash, neatly arranged in a money clip. Begrudgingly,  he pulls out a twenty dollar bill and throws it at my face. He does this like a trick does when he thinks you gave a bad performance. This isn't his first time.

I have no choice now but to leave. I wish I wasn't the type of person to take his money. More than that, I wish I wasn't the type of person to ask for it. I am a junkie. I need to hide in the shadows. I need to be invisible. In the back of my throat, I hear all the things I want to say. I want to tell him fuck you. I want to tell him he is wrong about me. I want to assure him I will take this money for some thing productive like food or the movies. Instead, I feel my stomach start to churn. Before my mind can even react, my body starts packing up my shit to leave. It doesn't take long for my picnic to be over. Within five minutes, I am headed for the open air.

I walk past the church services. I walk past the children dresses in little suits and fancy dresses. I pass by candy that has fallen on the ground. Normally, I would not ignore such treasures. It is as if my feet are pulling me, pulling me along. I see myself in the reflection of a store. Who is this person in the mirror. I see a person that looks like me- a thinner, older, tired version of myself. I sold my Turkey for Thanksgiving, I sold my presents at Christmas. Why should today be any different? I sold myself short again. At least I will have some dope to keep me company. Happy Easter.


  1. Yes. Yes. Exactly what ita like. I dont shoot, I smoke, and I don't look like a junkie but that's exactly how I feel everyday.

    1. I was hoping people could relate to the feelings

  2. Every time I smoke I think of you in the movie and I somehow try to justify, I dont shoot, I'm not junkie. But at the end of the day its the same shit, it's waking up flipping a .2 for the money to get .4 for the money to get .6 all day every day so we can be well for 8 hours. It's in your head thinking everyone that looks at you knows exactly what they're looking at. I go somewhere, do I have my foil, enough dope, my straw? How long will o be there? I can't be there more than this long, is there a place to smoke when I get there?

    1. It doesn't matter if you smoke or shoot, it's all the same shit (Dope), there for you ''are a junkie''.

    2. Being an addict is a tough road, no matter how you ingest the drugs

  3. Concerning other folk, you still got that cynicism?

    1. Not as much as I did then. I think I have always been fairly jaded but i have much more hope

    2. Nice. For some reason (many) fiends have this Pretty Woman, "hooker with a heart of gold," don't you dare judge ME, complex. It irks me.