Rituals of a transparent human being.

Empty, transparent, and alone I strung a wire up to the main support beam in my attic.  The other end of the extension chord was fitted with a slip knot, which I slid up the fastened end of the wire making just enough room to slide my head through.  I tightened the wire around my neck and fitted it carefully not to close the air passage.  I jumped. I didn’t even write a note.

There were moments where I wasn’t aware of my existence.  All I could see was a black foreground with slowly morphing red shapes strung together in a kaleidoscopic nature. This intense vision was coupled with the fearful emotions of claustrophobia, and it seemed like the moment would become eternal. I do not know how long I laid there, but I awoke convulsing in my own vomit on the floor of my garage just below the enclosure to my attic.  I struggled with an unrelenting force to rip the wire from neck just to breathe again. As the stars cleared from my vision, I looked up and saw the wire had broken in the middle.  I felt empty. I felt as if I had less energy than before, and that moving was no longer an option.

At this time, I had a minor problem with heroin. Well as minor as a heroin problem can be. I feel like this is when the real problem started.  After the hanging I quickly got involved with the wrong type of people, and backed away from all of the healthy avenues of a social existence.

My only friend at the time was Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee is a scrawny white kid with cherry blonde hair and intricate blue eyes; He had a level of intelligence never associated with a heroin user. We researched our way into addiction starting with simple prescription pills, and quickly stepped into the big leagues of heroin. We felt like we understood the biochemical interactions in the brain well enough that we would never be addicted to anything. Really this was our way of rationalizing the constant social pain we felt in the normal world.

Mr. Lee and I made enough contacts in the span of a year to fill a small phone directory. We replaced our interest in sex with the rush. We replaced our social friends with our dealers following them around for hours on end. We replaced our concept of time with four hour intervals of existence. We replaced our satiety with the stomach warming nature of heroin flooding our receptor sites. We replaced our simple nature with a bear of habit.

I was transparent.

As I look back on this moment all I feel is a deep craving to get high. I need this bullshit to end.

I will finish later upon request.