What are you thinking?

I was staring out the window one icy Ohio morning. I could see my breath against the window pane as I shivered in my seat on my way to school. I was bundled up in my leggings, covered in thermal underwear, hastily tucked under my blackwatch plaid uniform skirt. I had wool socks, waterproof boots, and layers upon layers over my sports bra. I knew I had gym class that day. I hated to change clothes around the preppie bitches I called my classmates. They had been cruel to me since I started this educational nightmare three years prior. My notebook was covered with offensive bands, offensive sayings. I wore a black crucifix around my neck. My black nail polish was chipped, my cat eyes were slightly smeared that day. I looked out the frosty window pane that morning and I knew I needed to get the fuck out of here. I imagined myself in a movie, I saw it. I knew one day I would be someone special. But I was fucking nobody, seventeen and alone.

My first time I really remember getting high was at seven years old. Some of my sister's friends decided it would be funny to get me high to get me to shut up. They were teenagers and did not like having a kid around them. Who likes to get high with prying eyes? I don't remember much about the feeling but I do remember the way the alcohol burned as it went down. I never liked the taste of alcohol, only the effects. I remember the way people laughed at me. Apparently, I wasn't getting high the right way. They wanted to teach me. I slid down on the couch and felt sleepy. This was not not the first time this went on, or even the last time. It was just another stepping stone in my road to addiction. My parents were at work and I was high like everyone else because apparently it was not a big deal to them.

The next time I remember getting drunk was at a wedding. Someone started pouring me drinks. How old was I- 10? I am not sure. I don't remember much except for seeing the world start to spin. The colors became hazy and felt as if I was melting into a chair. The next thing I knew, I was 22 years old with a needle hanging out of my arm.

"Tracey..." I felt someone shaking me before I heard the voice " Tracey we have to go."

I had ended up somewhere between two cars. I guess I had started nodding off right there in front of God and everybody.  I saw the trail of crusted blood starting to form down my elbow as I peeped through my pirate eye. 

"What were you thinking?!!!!!" he asked me. He starts to pull me to my feet.
I am starting to come back to my senses. I hear the sound of children playing. I look around-  I have my back turned to a school yard. They must have let the children out for recess. The look like they are about seven years old.

"Bryan, " I tell him in that garbled junkie voice. "I was back in Ohio. How could people get a little kid high?" I am stuck in woe is me opiate moment, when a junkie  turns into a pool of fuck you. Nothing good comes of that mood swing; nothing productive ever comes when I inject self pity and back it up with a few units of self loathing. I had tried to analyze my life a thousand nods ago and I still ended up in this same place, with me the ever present victim. It felt comfortable to me, like nodding off in a sunny alley with no regard for anyone else or their feelings.

Now he started pulling me and cursing at me "you are one to fucking talk, Tracey. What the fuck are you doing out here. Stop all your hope to die shit and learn how to live."







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Black Tar Heroin 10 questions answered

Image
I want to get this in one place. Here you go When was the film made? The film was made from Dec 1995 to Dec 1997. Originally the film was supposed to be for one year but I believe when HBO picked up the film they wanted two years. How were you picked for the film? Steven met a bunch of different people at the youth needle exchange. He wanted subjects that were slightly younger than me. He filmed a few other people  that never made it into the final film Were you paid for the film? No. I was not paid for the film. he bought me a hotel to stay in for a week and bought me lunch a few times. I think they left some money for me when I was in jail too. Documentary film makers, in general, don't pay their subjects. Was I friends with the other people from the film ? Sort of. I never knew Alice. I met Oreo when he was 15 or 16. He was VERY young when the film was made. His mom used to work the desk in one of the hotels I lived in. Jake and I used to hang out. At one point h...
Read more

Ben (revised)

Image
Ben was heroin addled fantasy from a time when I would rather be with someone that barely loved me than be alone. I had just been released from jail after six long months. I had been using in the jail up until the last 45 days. This is did not give me much time to construct any type of recovery. I had spent most my time of planning for things that would never happen. My first week in jail was spent recovering from surgery. When I was arrested, I had four large abcesses. An abcess is a place where bacteria gets under the skin and the flesh starts to rot. I had to have surgery on my arm. When I took of the bandage, I cried. Not because I was in the hospital, not because I was in jail. I cried because they had sliced open my tattoo! The horror of it all. I used to take a sterile needle and cut them open myself. Needless to say, my nickname was the abcess queen. When I was back on the streets, I felt hopeless. I gave up my homeless encampment living for a hotel with some financial ...
Read more

Jamie

   Being able to fall apart is a luxury many people don’t have. They carry their burdens until it breaks them.  Miss Jamie was one of the most aesthetically pleasing  women I had ever seen in my life. She simply glowed. When she entered a room, everyone had to stop to pay attention. She took that space over. Her smile was radiant. Her energy was infectious. She was a fireball of a human. Her petite frame was always draped with carefully selected skirts, dresses, and form fitting sweaters. She paired this with her signature plum lipstick and acrylics.  She always came late in the day, usually when I had the lowest energy. Yet, I never refused her entrance. I was happy to see her. Happy to listen to her while she held court in my desk area.      On this day, Jamie was wheeled into the clinic by a person I had never seen before. Instead of scrubs, he looked as if he had woken up on the streets. He looked left like a caretaker, more like a pe...
Read more