Smagrffitti Is Test Driving Uncharted Seas

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was at peace with myself. The world wouldn't care for losing another person to
drugs. And especially not me. The muscles in my body were like jello. I couldn't keep myself up. I fell off my bed and landed really hard on the floor. I hear stories of people saying that they see the light when they die. All I see is darkness. I'm covered in it."
He continues. "I'm sure I was given narcan. There's someone calling out to me. Trying to wake me up. I slowly come to. I'm breathing on my own. They remove the ventilator. I'm devastated. I'm sobbing. I'm still alive. They tell me that I need to get up and go with them in the ambulance to the hospital. I tell them to fuck off. And Clara is crying behind them. She's yelling at me to go with them. And I start swinging my arms to keep them away. I hit one of them in the jaw. And they hold me, until I calm down. I'm taken to the ER. They let me sleep it off in one of their rooms. Clara has a funeral to attend and just leaves me there. She tells me that she'll be back as soon as she can. But I'm in and out within two hours.
"Before I leave, they hand me a narcan kit and tell me to get help. And they let me go. Giving a narcan kit to a drug addict is like giving condoms to sexually active teens. Here's a preventative. Keep doing what you're doing. You'll be fine.
"Forty five minutes later, I get hooked up and I'm already high on heroin. I have no emotions. I'm not living. I'm not even existing. My body is just there. And every hour, I keep feeding myself drugs. Whatever I can get my hands on. I'm desperate. A desperate person will do anything to get drugs."
"And what did you do...to get them?"
He's biting on his bottom lip. Very quiet. "There's very few people who know about this."
He looks around before his eyes connect with mine. "I got so desperate that I was selling my body for money, for drugs. It was all about the sex and the drugs for me. Both gave me highs. I'd take risks doing this because lots of times, I got the shit kicked out of me. And I let them do it. I loved the pain. I believed that I deserved to be treated like the scum of the earth. That I was sub-human." I could see the tears filling up in his eyes. He uses his index finger and thumb, running them under his eyes to wipe them away.
"I forget that I have a 300k house in LA. Money in the bank. I squander what cash I have in my pockets. I have no fucking clue where I'm at or what day it is. Days turn into weeks, then into months. It all blends together. I'm living on the streets.
"Did you find somewhere to stay?"
"I found a drug house that brought me in. It was convenient for me. For a lot of others that were there. The nights were my...playing time. I'd go out. Fuck or get fucked. I get the cash. In the daytime, I come back to the house, pay up front for my supplies. I get high. I black out in one of the rooms."
"How long did this happen?"
He shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know. What I do know is that this one time, I overdosed. I took an assortment of drugs. I'm flying high, feeling extremely good. Then everything slowed down. My breathing. My movement. My thinking. I'm pretty sure that I pass out again. But this time, it's different. I'm dying. I always wanted this. Exit life. And I let it happen. Just like in the movies, fade to black."
"That wasn't it for you though."
"No, it wasn't. I was told by the doctor that I was dropped off in front of the emergency room and taken in. I was on limited time. They ran immediate tests, trying to figure out what illegal drugs I had taken. They gave me narcan. I wasn't responding. The gurgling stopped and I was clinically dead for six minutes. They brought me back though. Unfortunately, I slipped into a coma.