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//Lots of misunderstandings on this story, edited story for more clarity//
//edit again: i decided to put my story back to the original because i feel that my art is tainted by editing for clarity//
I need to tell you a story…
The Significance of K
The diary of a drug addict
an almost autobiography written in fictional form
about a life filled with hypocrisies and overindulgence
|– to the kiddies – drugs are bad, stay away from them! –|
I’m lost again, inside my head. That voice is back, the voice I know is me, but is not me because it gives me thoughts unbidden that I don’t want to hear. ‘You hate yourself,’ it whispers, ‘you need to end yourself. You’re nothing, and you need to die.’ How tantalizing. Almost wistfully, I think about the full bottle of codeine on my desk at home.
“Is it ready yet?” I say, impatiently, the voice in my head beginning to nag harder.
He is cooking, and it will be a while yet. I hunger, salivate, for what is on that plate. There is nothing else.
I wait. The voice is still there, but is ebbing into a dull background static as I concentrate on the boiling liquid.
I sniffle. My nose is completely stuffed, and I remember the real reason for the codeine. The food is almost done and I can’t partake. Inhaling through my nose as hard as I can, I manage to loosen the thick mucus from one nostril. It feels chunky and tastes slightly bitter as it glides down the back of my throat.
He tells me it is done. I breathe.
I breathe in freedom.
I breathe in rebellion.
I breathe in strength.
I breathe in happiness.
I breathe in life.
I pause. I cannot breathe anymore… and yet I must, because I need more. I am living my life through a straw. Just a little bit more, I need to breathe. I need to live.
Slightly lightheaded from the deep inhalations, I lay down on the carpet and rest my head on striped pillows. I look at the clock. 1:09 AM. The smell of life trickles down my nasal passage, and the taste of rebellion prickles my tongue.
Time stops.
Time flies.
I’m being stretched, like a rubber band – or more like a piece of saltwater taffy on a rollercoaster ride. I am going to break, I am going to break, being stretched in this dark tunnel of no escape. And then I’m there.
I’ve arrived. Where am I? I am in a house with nothing. I am in a house with everything. The walls are thick, but they are completely made out of glass. I still cannot see through them.
Someone is talking, and I’m responding, but they are not responding to my response. I cannot speak. The darkness is coming closer, and is about to take me away.
Time stops.
Time flies.
I’m being stretched, like a rubber band – or more like a piece of saltwater taffy on a rollercoaster ride. I am going to break, I am going to break, being stretched in this dark tunnel of no escape. And then I’m there.
Where am I? I am in an amusement park full of beautiful lights. I am not a patron of this park, but rather a spiritual being that glides over and around the curves of the park, up and down over the roller coasters and Ferris wheels faster than the fastest speeding bullet.
Time stops.
Time flies.
I open my eyes and I see striped pillows. Someone has thrown a blanket over my limp body. I look at the clock. 1:23. It has been an eternity since I left. It has been 14 minutes since I left.
I open my eyes. My mind is clear, the voice is gone, and I know it will be for days. Months, if I get to breathe often. Years, if I can keep breathing always.
But no, I cannot continue like that. I’m breathing too much, too fast, too hard. I need to slow down. Stopping would mean death. I’ve stopped breathing.
Help me. I want to breathe again.
Once again, on a totally different note… this sums up my day…
from one of my favorite comics, diesel sweeties
Love,
Kim
