I had been high for almost three weeks straight. Unless I was sleeping or en-route to the dope man’s house, I was high. If I wasn’t high, I was absolutely miserable. I’m going to skip all the back story; for a 36 year old guy, I had been stuck in a revolving cycle, with addiction ruining me every single time. This had been going on for 20 years. Now, I was screwed. People wanted to kill me and not just one person. Three. I was homeless, broken and wanted by the police for almost a dozen charges, half of which were felonies, all from one situation in which I had been entrusted to do the right thing. Instead, I robbed them blind.
Not having quite literally anywhere to go, anything to do, nowhere to sleep, no food to eat, water to quench my dying thirst, or anyone I could call, I was feeling really hopeless. There was not one available resource for those in need, and I could not find anywhere for me to lay low and try to carry on using. All the shelters were full and I could not be seen on the street. Not one person, family or friend, wanted to speak to me or deal with me. They’d stopped answering their phone the first week I relapsed. I was about to break down mentally and physically.
It was all sinking in, my world closing in on top of me. In spite of all the issues, I was so thirsty and had the worst cotton mouth from the drugs; it was hard to even swallow. Thankfully, about to choke on my tongue from thirst, I found a bottle of what was hopefully clean water on the ground, next to a trash dumpster. So, I picked it up. Since I had spent all my money on drugs, why not. It was par for the day. I drank it all.