August 15th - Uppers

Its 12:59am and I can't sleep. Maybe its the proper chai tea (proper = 2/3 cup milk, 1/3 cup water in a saucepan with the teabag, and some honey) I had less than an hour ago, or maybe it was seeing that ex while she was hanging out with my roommate. As much as I'd like to point towards the caffeinated beverage, the images of her that dance behind my eyelids as soon as I try sleeping, beg to differ.

On this night, I would get dressed. Sharp but not too sharp. The nights a bit nippy, so maybe throw on the wool overcoat, not so much for appearances, but for the comfort and extra pockets.

I will set out into a night that is only beginning. The smoky blue sky my ceiling, the streetlamps a tacky bordering job. I will seek out E or Speed or Coke, something fast, something deadly, something that'll do me in, but let me go out searing with life.

I don't know where to find these things, but I'm sure that with enough walking, and a general idea of seedier areas will get results. I'll walk 'till dawn if need be. I have work tomorrow, but its a one way trip that doesn't end at the rat race.

I'll pick a sentimental spot, ideally one that I remember that she's forgotten. Maybe in front of her old apartment, or even her older apartment. The housing of a summer so full of love, that it still seeps unwanted from me at times.

I'll take a seat on the curb, and take a dose. It'll take time to have an effect, so I'll do a couple circles. Visit the emotional wounds that are draped over pedestrian city landmarks. Some obvious, some not so much.

The depanneur where I used to pick up her favorite candy before I went to see her, or the pharmacy where we bought protection the night that we both sheepishly realised neither one of us was that prepared. Maybe I'll stop at home, and grab the letter I wrote her. Bring it with me to a bar, and sit in the back with sunglasses blasting my distaste for personal interaction at this moment.

The drugs will start to kick in, and I'll become more firm in my want for an end. More firm in vindicating my momentary view that sometimes loving and losing is only losing. Since they've just kicked in I'll pop another double dose. This way I'm sure that I've set an hour long egg timer on my life.

As much as I'd like to end this trip at an aforementioned nostalgic destination, I could never bear the guilt, even in this the most selfish of actions, of leaving my carcass anywhere that could lead to her feeling responsible.

I pick a non-descript alley, the longer and darker and more dumpster filled the better. My grip on reality is beginning to slip. TV static creeping in at the edges. She's a picture that won't fade, so I will. I tip into a dumpster as I go.