I used to think life was something that was given to us; something that we owned and could take for granted as much as we wanted. I used to think my life was nothing but a possession; a token placed upon a shelf in my room. Yes, I am alive and I have this to show for it. Here, look at it. It is my heart. It's black and bitter, but I like it because it's bitter, because it's my heart.
Now I know different.
Now I know that when someone is having a seizure they don't necessarily have to be squirming around on the ground with Starbuck's cappuccino froth coming out of their mouths. That's a movie/TV and book seizure. Real seizures can be anything from staring into space for 3 minutes to simply passing out. Most of them aren't serious unless they last for more than five minutes. In fact, a doctor will tell you not to even call 911 if the victim is themselves again within a short period of time. Other times, they can be dangerous, and yes, other times they can be life threatening. I know this now due to personal experience.
I'm really getting ahead of myself here. I should probably go back to the beginning instead of jumping right into the climax of this fucked up Diablos ex Machina style cit-com. You know? It is kind of funny if you have a sick sense of humor. Fuck, what am I talking about. The drugs are kicking in and I can't even concentrate. Oh my God! This sounds like that one Stephen King story about the water in Waco and the two brothers. The big one called the little one something, I can't remember what it was. Was it bam-bam? Boom-boom? No...fuck! Bow-wow was what he called him. Shit, what the fuck was I talking about? Oh yeah, Jack's overdose.
It's crazy; I always thought I'd be the one to be stupid enough to OD on the shit, even though both of us were really dumb. We were doing it all wrong in the first place, breaking all the rules, especially rule number 2: Never get high on your own supply. Yeah, we fucked that one up big-time. Jack and I must have snorted half if not three fourths of our profit that week. "You lack discipline!" he would say in an Arnold Schwarzen-however-the-hell-you-spell-his-name accent. "You lack a fucking brain." I'd say back.
Jack and I have been best-friends since middle school. Why the hell am I talking about him like he's still alive? You know, using have been instead of were? Whatever. Anyway, we've been through a lot of shit together. For instance, this one time in 8th grade I think it was. Jack got jumped by these two football jocks. I'll never forget that day. That was the day I got arrested for the first time in my life. They gave me a bullshit attempted murder charge because I hit one of the kids in the head with a be-nailed 2x4. Didn't kill him, not quite, but he can't really talk anymore. Who cares? He deserved it. This is getting really hard. My vision's going kind of blurry. I swear. This is just like that damn story.
Whatever. Now you know a little bit, well, enough about me and Jack. We were good friends; friends that would die for each other if they didn't kill each other first. It's funny, in a John Wayne Gacy or Ted Bundy sort of way, because that's exactly what ended up happening. This sounds kind of gay but who cares? This whole situation is not only like that Stephen King story, it also reminds me of another book; Romeo and fuckin' Juliet. A double suicide due to poor decision making in a heightened state of emotion.
See, what happened was this;
Jack snorted 2 grams of coke.
Then what happened was this;
Jack's heart stopped beating.
But in-between was the seizure... Jack's "status epilepticus". God if that wasn't a sentence fragment then I'm a three legged hermafodyte. HAHA, look how I spelled that! Shit, I need to focus here. From the time he snorted it to the time he died, that's what I need to talk about. His last words, before coming out of that weird semi-catatonic trance were, "Don't let me go alone, I'm scared." Then just like that he was dead.
So fuck, what the hell else was I supposed to do? I mean, shit. It was my coke he snorted. I may as well have just put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I mean that's the equivalent isn't it? The lowest common denomi-fucking-nator? I killed my best friend, my fucking brother practically! Not only that, but now I have a duty to fulfill his last request! I know I have not made the most rational decision here. I know that ingesting more than 2 grams of cocaine within a time period of less than 8 hours is dangerous and sometimes fatal. Dernt der duh! Look at my bedroom floor. There's a dead body there. It's my best friend; he snorted 2 grams of coke in 2 hours! So now I've gone and swallowed 3 and a half! But that's not all! I took some loratabs too! Now, not only am I starting to feel the symptoms of a cocaine overdose, I'm speedballing! Here, listen how fast my heart is beating.
1 2 3 4 5 6 ... you can't really tell can you? Doesn't work like that. You could be counting those numbers at any speed. You know what's good? Pecan pie. My mommy used to make pecan pie on Thanksgiving.
Oh God, I don't want to die.
I didn't want Jacky Jack to die.
Jacky come back. Jacky...
Mommy, made pie. Sweet pecan pie, and we can have it! We can have it Jacky! She said we don't have to sit at the kiddy table; we can sit wit the growed ups and drink outta stem glasses!
Fuck. I need to lie down. I think I made a bad mistake, but it's too late. Need to calm down. I'm sorry mom, sorry dad. Sorry for this stupid bullshit, but Jacky is scared and it's my 'sponsibility to go with him 'cus he asked for me to. So I gotta go. Ima' go lay down with Jacky now. Bye byE/ I lov u so much.
Your sonn... C
