High On You (Phan) // Unfinished

Chapter 1

    "More."

"No, man. You've already had way too fucking much, you're gonna-"

    "C'mon!" I screamed. It rang in my ears as I faded out of reality and back again. "I fucking paid for this shit, give it to me!"

    "If you pop any more fucking pills you'll--"

"die?! I don't care! This is my fucking night, I'm not gonna die!"

    He had the bag in his hand. I figured out which one of the hands I was seeing was real and grabbed for it.

    He pulled his hand and the bag away from me and I flipped.

I got up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and got so close to him that I was spitting in his face as I screamed.

    "Give me the fucking drugs, cunt!"

He quickly pushed the bag into my hand and pushed me away, running out of the door. Everyone looked at me.

    "This is your twenty-fourth birthday, Dan." I heard in the distance, like my hearing was blurry but he wasn't very far away from me. "Why not just enjoy it instead of scaring your friends away because you're needy for way more pills than you can handle?"

    "Yeah, mate. You've already drank your weight in alcohol. Why are you wanting to get so fucked up?"

    "None of you are my real friends! If you were you would let me do this without judging me! Everyone leave!!"

    "Wait, but--"

"Leave!!!"

    I watched everyone gather their stuff quietly and leave my place. The last person in line closed the door behind them. I was all alone.

    I had wasted too much breath on trying to get my pills back, I was lazy now and just wanted to smoke a little and go to sleep. I didn't bother checking the time, I probably wouldn't have been able to see it correctly anyway.

    I stumbled over to my bedroom and grabbed my stash from my dresser drawer. Thankfully a few joints were already rolled, so I didn't have to figure out how to do it while I was already faded as hell.

    I took off my clothes and laid back on the bed. I looked up at the ceiling as I lit the joint between my dry lips. I couldn't even pick my arm up to take it out of my mouth to exhale, so instead I just blew it out of my nose and let the hot ashes fall on my bare skin.

    As I got higher, I calmed down from how angry I was at my girlfriend, Rachel, for not making it for my birthday. Why would she want to see me anyway? Who would want to date someone that is always fucked up on alcohol or drugs? It would be pointless. I'm always too tired to have sex with her, every time we kiss she cringes at how my tongue tastes. Any time we even enjoy each others' company is when we're both high. I don't understand why we even continue to 'date.' She doesn't really like me, and frankly; I don't really like her either. She's just someone to have sex with when I'm horny. She's good at making out, and claims that I am too, even when I've smoked or drank so much I'm gone.

    But that isn't love at all. Hanging with her is like hanging with one of my shit friends except I can kiss and fuck her.

    But no one has ever told me 'you'll find someone who loves you.' Bloody hell, I haven't even told myself that. Cause I know it isn't true at all. I don't know why I am so eager to find someone that actually cares about me, I probably couldn't even give up my lifestyle for that person, and then they would end up leaving me too. Drugs are like a home to me, where I know I can come back to, and I know that I won't have to worry about all the thoughts going on in my head. I hate every moment I'm sober, because I have to realize my problems. At least when I'm faded I don't have to realize how fucked up I am. Because I am utterly in love with the idea of having given up. And I knew that if I did take even one more pill my heart probably would've stopped beating. I know I'm not invincible. The only time I was convinced I was invincible was when I took PCP nine months ago. I woke up in the hospital because I was found 'unconscious in an Esso parking lot with two stabs to the stomach and a large bruise on my right lung.'