Darkness had just punched the time clock, showing up to work the night shift. It was time to light a couple of candles in my Studio apartment. The purpose wasn’t to create a romantic or Gothic ambiance, but instead to be able to navigate around my four-hundred-square-foot living space with some kind of light. It seems my memory has been on a drunk once again and forgot to pay the light bill. The Electric and Power guy pointed out I’ve used that somewhat creative as well as almost humorous excuse far too often. The novelty has worn off with the consequence being orders to confiscate the Electric Meter and return it to the office. It meant he couldn’t just pull it out, turn it upside down, and push it back in. The company mid-level suits had become aware of me pulling it out and then placing it back into the service restoring my power after the electric guy left. I guess I’ll be playing Pioneer for a while. Maybe I should stock up on candles or get one of those oil lamps. You know what? My neighbors are leaving on vacation for a month tomorrow. I can jump their Electric and their Cable. I’ll try to get my TV. out of hock. This guy will be living like a suburban scumbag in no time at all. I’ve got it all worked out.
“This has to stop Santiago. There’s no future in what you refer to as a recreational activity.” I said out loud.
” Ya, I know. You’re right. I’ve gotta straighten up.” Answering back to myself with a 4:00 a.m. honesty.
I emptied the entire contents of the paper into the small pool of water in the spoon.
“When do you think that will happen?”
” I can’t say for sure. It may manifest as a revelation or mysteriously surprise me as an epiphany. Maybe some friends will organize an intervention. Although that seems highly unlikely with friends being scarce these days. However, there is always the never-fail cure; incarceration.”
I held the spoon over the candle flame and bubbles appeared on the surface of the water.
“It doesn’t matter what method you decide on. You’ve gotta get clean. You embrace your grief knowing it’s a toxic lover. Only because it allows you to believe that no one’s pain is greater than your own. It’s an excuse you use to rationalize this self-destructive behavior without culpability. How did it ever come to this?”
“You wanna know something? It’s a complete mystery to me how I got to where I am now. I guess I missed an exit or made a wrong turn. That’s one of the inconveniences of addiction, there’s no compass, no map, or directions to know where you are going. I always end up getting lost or find myself back where I started.”
I drew up the warm coffee-colored liquid mixture through a cigarette butt I used as a filter. Then I inspected the contents for air bubbles, flicking the syringe with my finger to dislodge them.
” You look at life as though it’s a nonstop parade just for your entertainment. You watch it
pass by day after day without thinking about its ending. Let me clue you in Mister Unreliable the last float will be showing up soon signaling your demise. Take my word for it. Santa Claus won’t be riding on top waving his Christmas Greeting. You’ve gotta take control of your life. It’s got to stop!”
My voice echoed in the near-empty apartment as I hollered to myself.
“Ya sure, it’ll happen. I promise. I just can’t say when.” I answered back sincerely. But even I didn’t believe myself.
I stabbed the syringe deep into my vein. I didn’t even have to pull back on the plunger to register. My dark, thick, rich, red, blood billowed into it offering a crimson preview of the explosion about to erupt inside my body. My finger slowly, ceremoniously pushed down on the plunger.
Boom!
