Running From the Sun - Part 3

Not knowing the answer I was about to give would lay the groundwork for the rest of my life I dug deep for the strength and courage to fight against the desire to say yes. When I finally made the decision to say what I felt I bit my lip and poured my very last breath of hope into it and said, “No, I will not kill myself, this is not what I’m supposed to be. This is not what I am meant to be doing with my life. God has another purpose for me.” As noble and valiant as this sounded at the time, It realistically boils down to me being an utter coward. Fearful of my life and fearful of ending it had all become one in the same. Things didn’t change much. She continued to bare her body for cash at the club and I continued to run the streets of Detroit getting the drugs needed to continue our masquerade. Now that we had burned our bridges everywhere else, our oasis was spending our last week on the street in this filth trap and we had run completely out of options. The insanity became gripping and quick to drown out all of the ignorant decisions we had made up until this point. The champagne glass pyramid was toppling and my fantasy was fading into black.

The end of the week had come and the rent for another week was due. The only possessions we had left were our ID’s, a few pair of clothes in a duffle bag salvaged from the trash, a few toiletries, a bicycle given to us by a friend (that had a flat tire inside of a week) and a few dollars left for something to eat. Need I mention we had one packet of dope left to split between the both of us that wouldn’t help either of us feel better whether we split it or not. The remainder of it barely even provided the mental comfort of “fixing,” which is what motivated me to use anyway. We made our way to the Coney Island for some coffee and whatever food we could afford. There was absolutely nothing left for us to do. Our schemes had run adrift onto dry land and we were a few tricks shy of manipulating anyone into helping us. Getting sicker by the moment and feeling completely useless we thought long and hard about what to do. Trust this, there were not many other options to think on, and we didn’t think much about anything positive or creative. The influx of money we enjoyed from Staycie’s moonlighting had run dry, and she had managed to get herself fired from that position and they would not allow her back.

We quickly wore out our welcome and the coffee refills were not making things any easier. If anything, the caffeine was diligently working against the affects of the dope and we wanted to avoid that at all costs. Sadly, we shuffled across the diner and out the door. I chained the dysfunctional bicycle to the bus sign and we walked to the local Alano club where recovering individuals met for fellowship and meetings. This was the only light left in a sea of desperation, and frightfully enough the only place where we could have any solace. This rest would prove to be temporary, and even in the midst of all the chaos, this was as peaceful as it would be for quite some time to come. Things were going to change very dramatically, very quickly.

Running From the Sun - Part 2

Staycie arose from her slumped position on the bed in the middle of the room with a look of excitement on her face. The first words from her mouth were, “Do you have it? Where is it? Give it to me!” Not caring too much for her absence of hospitalities I too was eager to get down to business. My reply to her was silent and without much emotion while I pulled the package from the inside of my sock where it was hidden. Pulling the wrinkled sandwich baggie full of relief out onto the table had reminded me that how I felt each day depended upon what label was on the next bag or bottle. We both made haste to prepare our “works.” Being ever so careful when tying off the vein in which we hoped would provide enough access to get a good “hit” also meant making sure that we would preserve a disposable needle long enough to get several more uses out of it. Never mind the looming possibility of breaking a fragile needle tip off while hitting a dead vein. One spoon, a filter, and a few cc’s of water later, we felt as if we had finally returned to what became an acceptable definition of “Human”, we relaxed and turned on the television to lie in wait as we prayed for satisfaction to come, but as usual, it never arrived.

As we lay upon the bed staring at the senseless chatter coming out of the idiot box, she turned her head toward me and posed a question that both shocked and enlightened me at the same time. She said, “We have enough dope here, why don’t we just put it altogether and kill ourselves?” This question scared me into what seemed to be a sober moment of thought. Regardless of the endless days of attempting to kill ourselves considerately, the thought of actually doing it was enticing to say the very least. This was a hard one to make at first. The isolation, degradation, humiliation, and utter contempt for “normal” life had brought me to a plateau where suicide was actually an option. This point of our lives was pivotal. This point in my life was monumental. Ending it all at that juncture seemed more sensible than the entire life preceding it. My mouth opened to utter a response, but my mind was slow to produce one. I was entangled in a web of confusion and wrestled with many things all at once. The obstacle standing before me was my family, my loved ones, and unknowingly, the grace of God. What would be left of them, how selfish of me would it be to end my life for nothing more than a ten dollar packet of evil and hatred. I had become willing to terminate my own life for the guilt produced by my own personal resistance. Despicable and desperate, I had become a societal waste of space. The reason I was even in this situation to begin with was my own self-will being a blueprint for my self-destruction. Of course, I had become good at defending the lies I told myself to justify living the dream that had become my nightmare.

Running From the Sun - Part 1

I had made many trips into the dark of night to seek out destruction and death one packet at a time. I have also braved situations that I would never endure without the backing of a small army. The decisions that I made through past indiscretions were many, and often brought rotten fruit. But, some of these decisions were not just spoiled refuse. As it turns out, rotten fruit still has seeds. Those seeds, can still be planted, and bear good fruit. Here is my personal account of that bad fruit bearing good seed. I will pick up where the seed began to sprout, and when it seemed like all had failed, turns out it was only the beginning...

After arriving back to a sight that was dolorous but welcoming, the Rising Star motel offered a veiled solace. I hurried frantically toward the motel room door and fumbled with the key in the lock. Although the walls surrounding the secluded motel gave comfort for a minute, the paranoia and anxiety quickly crept back to overtake the momentary relief and I returned to the agitated state of peering over my shoulder and looking for the police and every other stalker my mind had convinced me was pursuing me. The sick feeling had receded into my consciousness for a short time only to be awakened by the innocuous thought of scoring another blow. There was just something about scoring that anesthetized the euphoria while making the withdrawal worse. When you knew you were going to be spending time kicking, you just dealt with the pain.

It felt like time was standing still while I waited for the door to open and when it did I was where home had become. With the curtain drawn to protect us from the normalcy insinuated by the daylight, the background of the television drowned out the noise of the Joe’s and the Jane’s about their real life afternoon business commuting down the busy city street. Of course there was concern about who may happen to look in and see our secret, but they were up to the same shady specialty we were and it really didn’t matter anyway. I sat down with relief. My feet were aching and I was mentally exhausted from the acquisition of our prize. The darkness still provided very little sanity as the paranoia reigned supreme. Although I was in the presence of the familiar it brought only a minor indulgence. The one whom I loved would betray me for a quick fix. But then again, I would do the same.