wanna go for a ride?

tick tock tick tock….i hate waiting for lunch. it has only been a couple weeks of meeting jesse on lunch break, but already i have made it an essential part of my daily routine. i don’t have a habit that makes it imperiitve to get off e in the middle of the day…but that makes the afternoon that much more of a treat. it’s always more fun if you don’t *need* it.

it was a little before two o clock. i am nervously  watching my phone for the text to save me….my poor coworker has no idea whats going on, she thinks i meet this kid @ lunch to cheat on my boyfriend. whatever she wants to think is fine with me, as long as it has nothing to do with me going on a late lunch to mainline drugs…..

the phone vibrates……”i’m here, come down.” i grab my bag and i’m on my way. “see you in an hour, CeeCee.” i yell over my shoulder, i’m on the elevator before she can respond.

jesse is parked in front of the building, i jump in the passenger seat and we are off into traffic.

“there’s a present for you over there, hun.” he smiles. i look in the door handle of the xtera, and there it is……i think i hear angels singing……the biggest shot of dope a girl my size can handle. “thank you darlin.” i take the rig into my trembling hand and as we stop at a red light, i get off. warmth rushes over me and i get that heroin taste in the back of my throat…i let go and melt into the leather seat. the light turns green and we go again.

“so you won’t believe what happened to me today…” jesse starts on a pretty standard ‘what i had to go through to cop’ story and i listen intently, i love these drug dramas…various hustles and interatctions, captivating. one of jesse’s special skills is getting drugs without any money at all. i’m not sure how he pulls it off, it’s over my pretty little head, but it works, and i am definatly appreciative of it. we are driving down a side street, faster than i would like. not only does jesse speed, but he tailgates, which makes the second part of our lunch date almost unbearble….the coke.

“i’ve got something else, if you want it.” he always says it like that, like i wont’ want it, or something. “hand it over.” i laugh, drawing water back into my set. he hands me the bag of coke, and i cook myself a nice little lunch up, and as he yeilds to let some old lady walk her dog across the street, i get a massive register, and push down the plunger. i lick the blood off my arm, and the bells are ringing to beat the band. my heart crushes up against my chest, and i am instantly convinced we are going to crash.

“hey, don’t go so fast.” i yell, slamming my hand down on the dash.

“ah, yes…coked out paranoid kaia from hell. i was wondering if you were coming to lunch today.” jesse laughed.

“whatever, just don’t go so fast.” he just laughed some more.

we spent the rest of the lunch doing laps around my work, alternating coke and dope shots, talking love, karma and the grateful dead. i know these lunchbreaks are lethal to the end of my day, and going back to work after such an escapade is not only irresposible, but it’s begging for trouble. i just can’t seem to break the cycle.  sounds familiar, somehow……

no matter what, i long to fill this void. with drugs, with companionship, with a feeling like i’m wanted and needed, like jesse wants and needs me around. i know it’s not good, and i know it can only lead to more shit. but knowing it and doing something about it seem to be oceans apart from one another. i’ll just enjoy the ride, while it lasts…..

small victories

i know i’ve been putting less than a stellar effort into making a better life for myself. i am dealing with alot of shit, both present and past tense…but this weekend i went home and stayed @ my mom’s house. saturday i didn’t get high at all. took the suboxone, watched movies and played guitar hero w/ my younger brother and one of my favorite cousins (whom i have seen some really hard times with) it was so great just to be there, and to talk to them, listen to great tunes on the ipod, just chill. it means more to me than anything to be w/ my family like that, sober and functioning.  i miss them so much when i’m out here in the city.

i also got to spend some time @ casey’s mom’s house w/ him. she really likes to see us, doing well. she let me live w/ her for almost two years, when casey and i were just getting into the worst days of our addiction together. i owe her so much, and all she wants is to be able to feed us dinner, and know we are sitting there with her, not waisted. it was a pleasure to give her that gift.

so i came home yesterday and jesse was waiting for me. and yes, we got high. but i have this little glimmer in me, remembering what its like to do good and to bring happiness into my own life and the lives of people i love. as i went to bed last night, all fuzzy and doped up, it was those thoughts that lulled me to sleep, not thoughts of how great it was to be jammed again…..

all i can do is take it slow, one small victory at a time.

taking it slow

as the weekend approaches yet again…i am looking forward to going home to my mother’s house. i think i’ll take some suboxone i’ve scored from a friend, take my younger brother to see sweeny todd, maybe hit this sunday morning meeting back home that serves bagels and muffins.  just give myself some time away from jesse, away from the lonliness of the city…give myself some time to be by myself and really think what’s really going on behind my using, why i have this defeatist attitude, what makes me think i don’t deserve a better life.  because if i take a second to be honest, that’s the truth behind it all. i have a really hard time believing i deserve anything but this life. in my mind i’m damaged goods, a white trash girl with a fuct family, a past riddled with addiction and abuse. it’s in my fucking blood, how do you change that?  i have it set in my mind that there is no way out of it, and who am i to think i’ll be *the one* to break the cycle?

but it’s thinking like that that keeps women like me stuck in the rut. that is the attitude my mom always brought. “this is just my life, it will suck and i will always be unhappy.” and that has been the case all her life. she has manifested her own destiny. it so sad to watch her live this life of tears.

i can manifest my own fate, and it can go either way. that’s the part i have a hard time with. keeping faith that i can change for the better, and what’s harder….thinking i deserve better.

so i’m going home this weekend, to sit with myself and some good grateful dead tunes, to meditate on weather or not i can love myself enough to push for this. i’ll take it slow, though. one minute step at a time, i’ll walk this path.

something about me

his unshaved whiskers scraping across my neck brought me back.  i opened my eyes, and i saw the wall. oh, i’m on the bed. i guess i had had more to drink than i thought. wait a second, what the fuck is going on here.….

“brody, come on, i’m fucking sleeping.” i said, and tried to push him off of me. he pushed right back. i started to get a little panicked. “brody, come on, please, gimme a second, i’m pretty fuct up. brody. brody, stop…..”

  __________________________________________

brody and i had beend dating for a little over 2 weeks. it was my senior year of high school, and i was maybe four years into my heavier drug use. acid, ecstacy, mushrooms, alot of weed….daily usage of all of these things. but no coke….and no heroin. i was adamant against it. i may have been a druggie, but i was no fucking junky. (isn’t that funny how we justify)

brody was 21, a friend in my clique. he was cute, fun to party with, and a recovering heroin addict. there was something so mysterious about that, it got me hot. i was so young and naiive. he was using the whole time we were together, and i didn’t think it once.

that night, we were in his room @ his mom’s house, drinking soco and watching the celtics game. we were making out a little, but nothing heavy, i was trying to take it slow with this guy, because i usually got the feeling guys were using me for sex. and if you know what that feels like, it’s probably one of the lowest places you can be. it leaves you empty. so iwas trying to wait it out with him, see how he really felt.

the night had been going well, i was really enjoying his company. brody was one of those “nice guys” in my eyes. his stories of ripping off home depot to cop dope just made me love him all the more. i’ve always been infatuated w/ the rockstar aspect of drug addicts. my first crush was kurt cobain when i was 11 years old. he stole my heart, he was so artistic and tragic, misunderstood and doomed. it was like a fairy tale to me. brody was the best of both worlds to me….”reformed junky” perfect. i remember thinking. “i am really going to have a good time with this guy.”

“hey, kaia, i got something for you.” he got up off the bed and went over to the bureau. out of the sock drawer he pulled out a bag…..of coke.

“what.” i asked. “dude, you know i don’t do that shit.”

“fine, whatever.” he smiled, broke himself out a huge line and blew it like there was no time to waist.

i started thinking. what difference. drugs are drugs. it’s not like i’ll be sticking myself with needles over this shit. besides, he said he got it just for me. how sweet.

“okay, maybe just one. ” i smiled.

“that’s my girl, come over here.” he grabbed me around my waist and planted me in front on this huge pile of coke. i had this rush of adrenaline, like “wow, i am so not in control of this” i was so young and crazy, i couldn’t get over  how sweet i thought he was, wanting to involve me in his life. before i could think of it anymore, i picked up the grungy dollar bill and it was over before i knew it. i can’t tell you the exact sensation of that first line of coke….but i can telll you that crushing feeling off coming off it, and how quick i was back up in front of that pile. i was laying on the bed with brody, talking incessantly about the meaning of life….”you know what, man, i have a feeling i may have opened pandora’s box with this shit tonight.”

“yeah, kaia, you don’t know how quick it catches up with you. i mean, i’ve been shooting up since i was 15, and this six months is the longest i’ve ever been clean. it’s so fuct, life sux, hon.” i held him close to me, thinking i was so lucky to have someone so sensitve in my life.

————————————————————

it took me a few mintues to process what was really going on….i was being raped.  tears started to stream down my face, i was hurting in places i didn’t know i had. ripping, tearing, oh god i’m bleeding. “brody, you’re hurting me.” there was an urgency in my voice that scared me even more.  i put all my strength into pushing him off me.  yeah, right. god please stop fucking stop please brody please.

i had woken up from a drunken blackout to find this kid on me and in the act already. just the idea of him undressing my lifeless body gave me the chills. who does that? and even if you could do that much. even if you could start fucking a girl while she was passed out, if she wakes up and is crying, begging you to stop, then you are the rarest of the animals. the all out rapist.

it seemed to last forever, and when it was over i had nothing left in me. i was so scared and sad and i felt so violated and ruined, like i would never be okay ever again. he rolled over and passed out. i took the rest of the coke to the bathroom, and did it all, then i got into the shower, and layed in the tub crying until there was no more hot water.

i think i gave up on myself in two ways that night. one, i conceeded to the fact that i was a drug addict, i was gonna do whatever came to me whenever and not worry about anything else, cuz that was just the way it was. i had crossed the coke line, why not ride it til it dies. and two, i came to believe that no one would ever really love me or want to be with me, that all the guys in my life were going to hurt me, abuse me, molest me or fucking rape me. brody was just doing what guys do. what else did i know, that’s how my whole life had been.  and it’s how it would be.

and i cried.

there is something about me that attracts this shit.

*a funny side note: i stayed w/ brody for about a week after that night. i couldn’t get the courage to bring it up, so i just broke up with him and never told anyone.  him and i have remained friends over the years, because for some reason i can’t bring myself to blame anyone for the shit they do to me. “it’s gotta be something about me” i always say. well, last year, six years after that night….many eightball and sexual assaults later…..i finally had enough drugs in me to confront him.

and he doesn’t even remember. “jesus, kaia, sorry. i don’t know what the hell you are talking about. i was so wrecked that night, i barely remember us hooking up at all. “

“hooking up?” oh, you mean the rape.

and that’s the knife getting twisted again. this event that totally changed my life, changed the way i looked at people, changed the way i looked at myself…for life. and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, it never happened.

i didnt’ think i could feel any emptier.  i was wrong.

happy new year?

the past couple months have been a blur….i’ve been partying alot w/ jesse, my friend from my famed overdose night. he’s such a sweet guy, and we do something for each other that nobody else really does….we tolerate each other’s using, and love each other anyway. he’s the only one that doesn’t give me shit 24/7 for being a junky. and i’m grateful for that in my life, even if it’s probably not good for me.

it’s gone from getting high on weekends to getting high after work…to where i’m at today, waiting for jesse to pull up on my lunch break to get me straight, like he does every day. my habit is definatly in the “controllable” rhelm, but its a shame i have one at all.

jesse and i have been going through hell w/ each other lately, because he’s got all these feelings for me, that i just  don’t share. (i’m back w/ casey, if anyone is keeping score) so jesse and i get high together all week, and fight the same fight over and over…..”why can’t you give this a shot”…..”why do you have to put so much pressure on me.” …..”can’t we just be freinds”….”i don’t want to be just friends.” “all i’m good for is drugs.” ” i can’t do this anymore.” it’s like clockwork.

so on new years i sat down w/ casey, just the two of us in my room….we’d been getting high together all night, but now he wants to start talking about how we need to buckle down and get sober….same old song and dance.  i love him just as much as i always have, but it’s hard when he comes down on me for getting high one second, and then i’m watching him tie off to shoot dope i paid for the next second. and i know he’s an addict just like me….but he should cut me some slack then.

anyway, we made a promise not to get high anymore, in the new year together. he got on a bus to go home around 5, 545 rolled around, and jesse was standing @ my burreau, cooking me up a huge shot to get me through the night.  the needles was barely out of my arm and we were fighting again…..

“i can’t do this kaia.” he’s sitting on the bed looking at me with that look on his face again. the look that says ‘how can you keep fucking me over like this.’

“i don’t know what to tell you, man. i can’t do it anyore either.”
 

he was up and out the door in 5 minutes and we didn’t talk all night. now it’s day time, and we’ve spoken our appologies, and made plans to meet up @ lunchtime.

i see my freindship w/ jesse as i see my relationship with drugs. we can’t seem to get enough, but we hate it at the same time. we are always swearing each other off, only to come crawling back the next morning. it’s a sick cycle, and i don’t know how to break it.

here’s to a new year…..of the same old shit.