When I woke up that morning, my head felt heavy. I wasn’t exactly feeling all well. Infact, I just wasn’t well. My head felt dizzy, I had a running nose. I put together all the strength that I had, to get up and look around. I was on the beach. I tried to recall how I reached there, but after three lines of coke that I had snorted last evening, I obviously couldn’t remember. I tried to convince myself that I must have come here myself last night. I had no other choice, anyway.
As I stood there, staring at the violent waves, my life flashed in front of my eyes like a film roll. And I began to reminisce.
I knew my life wouldn’t be rosy the day I left my home, and along with that, a cozy life. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that it could get so rocky.
My parents had seemed like tyrants to me. They had a problem with everything that I did. And when, one fine day I realized that the life they wanted me to live wasn’t exactly the one I wanted to, I stomped out of the house. Anyway, they had expressed their disgust of the fact that I was their daughter, the day they found out I smoke and drank. I walked out, swearing under my breath to never return.
As I embarked upon a new life, all I carried along with me, was a bag in which I’d stuffed a few clothes and my certificates which proved my education. I had to carve a life out of these, and I knew there wasn’t any other way.
I got a job at a call centre. They paid me enough to fill my belly, but not enough to buy a house. I stayed at a pal’s place for a month or so, after which she blatantly refused to give me refuge. That was the first time I felt I ad done a huge mistake by walking out. I felt scared as I walked out of my friend’s house. I was completely broken.
I could see that I had no purpose in life. And that troubled me.
I spent the night under a street light. Homeless, helpless, alone…
I went to a bar the next day. That’s where I met a peddler, who offered to sell drugs to me. I refused, and walked away.
But the next time I went to that bar, and was trying to find peace in my vodka, I met him again. It was pure coincidence, and this time, I couldn’t refuse.
I found a purpose to live – cocaine.
The peddler would supply me cocaine, and I would pay him all my salary for it.
Cocaine was tremendously hallucinating, and I began to find peace in it. Each shot of it left me so lost, so high…
It was a healer, it took me away from all the troubles of the world.
I still lived on the roads, but now, I cared less.
I never felt anything was going wrong with me, till one day, my nose began to bleed. It pained severely. I tried to convince myself that it couldn’t be because of drugs. I couldn’t.
I knew it was cocaine.
But I never went to a doctor. I was scared. And there wasn’t anyone to force me anyway.
Life moved on.
My meetings with the peddler increased. I now snorted almost eighteen lines of coke everyday, after which I passed out.
One such night, I fainted. I hadn’t passed out, I had fainted with the pain I my nose, from where blood oozed out like anything.
When I opened my eyes next, I saw myself in a room which had been mine some time ago. Beside me, I saw my parents, who wept like anything. I cried. And I hugged them as tightly as I could. I didn't want to leave them. I just wanted to come back.
I was glad they agreed with me.
I had learnt my lesson.
Perhaps.
Perhaps not.
Cocaine never went out of my mind. Life seemed incomplete without it. I hadn’t any will power to stop myself, so I feigned evening walks and went in search of my peddler.
I found him, and with him, I found cocaine.
My parents found out soon. Their faces told me they had given up all hope. They seemed shattered. And I couldn’t stand it.
I decided to leave once again. It was just my way of telling them to forget that they had a daughter. This time, they didn't stop me.
I knew I was ruining my life, as I met the peddler once again and snorted three lines of coke.
But somewhere deep down, I just wasn’t bothered. Cocaine was now my life. It was a different point that it was poison, too.
That was yesterday. As I watched the waves come and go, I realized how I had ruined my life to an extent after which I couldn’t step back.
And I was sad to admit, that I wasn’t happy with it.
I knew what I had to do today…let the waves take me away. For the first time after so long, I felt like being led by someone…
I needed a better high than what cocaine gave me, and what could be better than death.
Not much was left of life now…
Not much of life was left now…
10 comments:
Hmmm.. good imagination! I hope its all imagination though! :P
Vaise, on a philosophical note, I have no idea how a doper's life is.. but this is probably the version that one gets to hear all the time. I wonder what really goes through the mind of an addict, coz well, there are hardly any addicts who blog just before they do suicide.. hehe..
good blog though! :)
p.s. you might wanna have a look at my main blog silvercypher, the one given in links of abhi-and-susie blog..
p.s. why so sad and depressed?
abhi: uh, ur right. this is the version i just know about. n yes, its all imagination...atleast till now...
and not that i'm sad n depressed, i just write sad stuff well!!
LOL. I'll see ur main blog too.
A good piece overall but there are rough edges here and there. It seems too narrativey, a tad didactic and predictable at places. A little more subtleity, a little more mystery, a little more show and a little less tell will do wonders to this piece.
Managing to hold on to a job while being homeless and addicted to cocaine would be really difficult.
The ending is bleak, not that it is a bad thing. But it is predictably and derivatively bleak. That is. Ending with her standing alone on the beach, still a slave to coke and without hope of redemption would have been just as bleak.
Just my two paise. Hope you see this as constructive critcism and not an attempt at running you down.
bharat: I, for once am liking the fact that someone is so observant about my writing.
And yes, i DO take this as nothing else but positive criticism!
Thanx..
It's always nice to know that sum1 really took tym to read n find the loopholes(which i myself fiured out were many...bt u see, at 1:00 AM, u dont feel like really editing AT ALL), and tell u abt them in a manner which seems really impressive!
:)
I am a v.v. bad critic :P
I love this! Like I love everything else you write.
You know, but the best one you've ever written will be the AIDS wali. I dont remember its name.. But I think you should publish it on the blog too =)
No problemo. This is the kind of comments I want to receive for my work so this is exactly the kind of comment I prefer to leave on other peoples' blogs. :)
Good imagination I agree, it captures almost all aspects of a druggie's life. My best friend was one & he went through almost all of this... you should include some rehabilitation experiences if you write about the same topic again. :) I liked it
i read this in schooooolllll!! yay!!! sabse pehle!
i already told you,it was awesome..just superb..when people read this,they actually start picturing it..connect with it..thats what i admire the most about the way you write!
kudos to you my dear friend! lowe you!
disha: awww....my sweetie's cho nice to me (n all the stuff i write!) mwah!!
bharat: its weird that u want such kinda comments on ur stuff...i dont! but then, i dun mind them as well...LOL
shailja: yea, i shud've put up an acknowledgement for ur input in the post!! n yes, if i do end up writing another one, i will take up ur suggestion...:P
radhika: aaah, u werent the first one to read it! many ppl read it before that...but its okay....u read it before i put it up na...
*signs off...tired*
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