Michaels POV 🥀
1996, the Perron Hotel
I was 38, staying in an expensive hotel in New York. I was having a hard time - deep in my drug addiction and feeling lost, alone and hopeless.
I lay on the king size bed, my head sinking into the soft pillow - feeling numb, as if I'd never feel any emotion again.
I hated being numb, I'd almost rather feel the weight of sadness, so at least I'd feel more real, less out of it.
I felt like I was in a dream, a bad one - one that I couldn't escape from however hard I tried, I knew it was the drugs making me feel this way, but I wanted more.
Maybe if I took enough this awful feeling, this fog, would lift and I'd feel like me again.
I shoved several pills into my mouth and tried to dry swallow them, one got stuck in my throat so I hurried to the sink and swallowed several gulps of water from the tap.
By the time I was back in my bed I felt like I was floating, and not in a pleasant way. My stomach was rolling inside me, my hands, feet and face were tingling and I couldn't feel my lips.
I lay back and felt the claws of slumber pull me down, down into the bed.. I was sinking..
Then my stomach lurched so hard I sat up straight, and felt bugs crawling up my throat, not tickling like I'd expect - but burning, then I realised it wasn't bugs - it was acid.
It splattered over the sheets and for some reason in my confused mind I didn't want to get sick on the bed so I leant over and sprayed the next lot of vomit over the carpet.
I was crying now, in distress and anger and agony, I pulled myself out of bed, my bare feet splashing in the sick.
I ran over to the wall and kicked and punched it, my feet hurting and knuckles beginning to bleed, ruby red blood rolling down my hands, dripping into the carpet.
I collapsed back onto the floor, bashing my head against the carpet, tears and snot all over my face - a strange howling noise coming from my throat.
Then my stomach twisted again and I made a half hearted attempt to get to the toilet, but fell after two steps and started painfully throwing up over and over on the carpet, retching until there was nothing left.
Then I wearily pushed myself away from the huge vomit splatters, far enough to not get dirtied when I collapsed back to the carpet and lay there for less than a minute before I passed out.