Halfway There

Not a typo.

I’m back, folx.

Six months sober, older, wiser.

My writing hasn’t been nearly as prolific since I regained a few shreds of my sanity, but the freedom from my addiction is worth more than any arbitrary symbolic combination of mouth noises. I’d like to thank God and also Jesus.

I have seen more shades in the rainbow of life in the past six months than I ever had in the preceding 19 years.

I’ve moved to south Florida, relatively indefinitely. Turns out there’s an entire flippin’ industry down here making bank off of cups of grade A human excrement. That is, urinalysis cups, a.k.a piss cups. So I get to live in a 300sq foot apartment with six other women for free as long as I don’t get high. Sounds like a fair trade to me.

I actually love it. Not just living walking distance from the beach. But like, living with people who know, ya know? Like, yeah, there was that time I told some kid named Dan if he got me a gram of Molly we could do “whatever he wanted”. But some of my closest friends actually were backpage escorts, exotic dancers and amateur adult models. Most of them have been arrested before, half of them have done time or have pending cases. Three of my new friends are already dead: two of overdoses and one of ripping off or owing money to the wrong dealer or junkie.

Which makes me wonder, what are we grieving when someone dies? After all, when you really think about it, the death of loved ones is the most normal part of life. As people must be born so that they are considered alive, they must also die. So, being that we as humans are cognizant of our mortality, what are we actually experiencing when we mourn?

I was waxing philosophic on the beach at my friend Shay’s memorial when I realized that, as much as I loved and miss her, I was more upset that I didn’t get to know her better before she left on a heroin run, chasing the dragon in a circle until it finally caught her and swallowed her whole. I longed to experience more of her, to ingest her spirit, to pick her brain to the stem of her existence. But I realized that I never would be able to, at least in this life. And that’s what I grieved: what was, what could have been, and what, now, can never be.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s