Such A Beautiful Disaster

Part 7

It was Saturday night. I was getting myself ready to go out and get drunk. I didn't want to think about anything anymore. I wanted to obliterate my brain cells so that my mind had no choice but to shut down. Yesterday after I had gotten home from work I barely moved. I sat on the couch, absently staring at the T.V.,ignoring all incoming text messages and phone calls. The only time I got up was to sniff another half a pill, which I was doing at regular intervals so I didn't have to wait as long to take another whole one. I always got paranoid about taking too much because I didn't want to overdose. I also made only one call, which was to my dealer, letting him know I wanted as many pills as he could get for me by today. Since I consistently bought a large amount of pills each time, he would always come through for me when I needed them. Before I headed over to the party Jack invited me to, I was going to stop at my dealers to get the pills.

I looked myself over in the mirror. I had my boots on with a black, blue, and grey plaid skirt. I had thigh high stockings on underneath though and a long sleeve thermal. It was chilly out tonight. I looked closer at my face. My skin wasn't looking too hot, mostly from lack of nutrition. My eyes looked ridiculously blue right now, probably because my pupils were just a concept at this point. A sudden urge to break the mirror came over me. I felt a rage burn inside me that wanted to destroy everything and anything. Then as suddenly as it came, it went, just leaving me tired. So damn sick and tired of my entire life.

I counted, then recounted the money for my dealer before I left the house. It was all there so I grabbed my bag and left. As I waited for the bus, I skimmed through my music, trying to find some happy music to brighten my mood. I then realized that I listened to some pretty depressing and angry music. I sighed and gave up, just letting whatever song was on play out. The bus pulled up and I boarded, swiped my card, then found a place to sit. It was late so the bus was practically empty. While I loved to be able to sit during bus rides, at this moment I wanted anything to distract me. The empty bus left me alone to my thoughts again.

As the bus started moving, I started thinking about how I wasn't even getting high anymore. Sure, I was under the influence of a mind altering substance and when I took it I was extremely chilled out, just moving along without a care in the world. But I wasn't getting that euphoric feeling I once did. It still felt amazing every time the pills kicked in, having everything just melt away but it barely lasted these days. I used to float on cloud nine for half the day from sniffing one pill. Now I was constantly snorting pills all day long. I had to take a pill before noon so I didn't pass out. I was getting high and all it was doing was making everything manageable. It wasn't fun anymore. But there was no way I could stop. Besides the hell of detoxing, I had been stuffing my emotions and not dealing with some serious issues for so long. I did not ever want to have to face them head on.

We were almost to my stop so I put away my iPod and pulled the cord to signal a stop. I got up and walked to the front, holding on to the rail above my head for balance. My equilibrium was horribly off lately. I was continually bumping into things and tripping over my own feet. Nevermind, my shaky hands. I had a few grease burns on my forearm from dropping a basket of onion rings into the fryer at work yesterday because I couldn't get a good grip on the handle. The bus pulled to a stop. I told the driver to have a good night and got off. I waited for the bus to pull away then I crossed the street. I stopped for a minute to send a text to my dealer that said "I'm a block away." He always met me at his door and required a heads up to know I was going to be there. He never answered a knock on the door if he didn't know who was behind it. I looked around to make sure there wasn't anybody in close proximity before pulling the wad of cash out of my wallet. I folded it up into my closed hand into a fist around it, then continued on my way to his house. I looked around again before I knocked on his door, one, two, three times loudly. Within seconds he opened the door to make the exchange. My dealer, his name was Scott. He was only a few years older than me and looked like an average guy. He was tall, with brown hair worn in a buzz cut. His eyes were a crazy green color which I always figured was because he was on the very drugs he sold. He dressed in polo shirts and khakis. Sometimes I wondered about his background, but since it really didn't matter I left it at that.