Chemically Imbalanced

Rock Bottom

"Get up!"

The words slurr around my head, my vision still blurry and my thoughts all scattered.

Ah! Shit!

A stinging pain throbs in my head as the sunlight burns my eyes.
I try and sit up straight, but instead im greeted by last night's alcohol clouding my brain making me wish I would just die allready. Well we all die someday. But right now it feels like my impending doom is closer than others.

This can't get any worse, no way in hell this could get any worse.
Ohhhhhh, SHIT!
yeah, it can totally get worse. Im writing today.

With groaning and radiating pain, I attempt to get out of bed.
I stumble to the bathroom clinging to the wall like my life depends on it.

Dark circles forming under my eyes, my body losing weight, I can feel myself gettin weaker with every trip.
This stuff works, it makes you feel alive. Like you can do anything, like you're untouchable. And then it kills you.
But, it hasn't. Not yet anyway.

I finally manage to fall into the bathroom, frightened by the image in the mirror greeting me. I look like hell. No scratch that. I look like one of Satan's minions with my bloodshot eyes, lined eith dark circle and a bony facial structure. I get ready as fast as I can but time swirls around my head making it feel like eternity. The high was nice, the alcohol was good, But right now its still fighting it's way out of my body.

Ah, fuck.... here we go again.

I drop to the floor clinging to the toilet.

I hate myself so fucking much right now!

I finally manage to get back up and heaf out the door. Grabbing my cigarettes on the way. Not forgetting to wipe the white powder from the counter in my bathroom as I leave.

On my way out I carelessly wipe my hands on my shirt. As any guy still suffering from the previous night would.
I grab my bag and I'm off.

***********************************

The campus grounds are cold and deserted. Student hiding in the bathrooms from the cold. I don't blame them the cold stings against my skin making my hands feel all numb and stupid.

I rush to the bathroom to get out of the cold, but inside I find chaos.

"What the hell is going on!"
I demand answers from the skinny boy I only now relise I'm pinning against the wall.

"Wo- word got out tha-"

This boy is testing my patience on the worst day possible. Look I feel bad for the kid. But sometimes I just snap and my brain goes back to my fighting days. Especially with pent up anger and irritation.

"Spit it out!"

By now the kid's feet isnt even touching the ground anymore and his books lay scattered around us.

"Cops, and they're bringing the K-9's"

Great. Just great.
"This day can't get any worse."
Yes it can it abso-fucking-lutley can.

I drop the scrawny boy to his feet, at the same time I fling my bag off my shoulder.
I frantically start digging through my bag until I find it.

I waist no time emptying the packets content into the bowl befor flushing.
I spray cologne in my bag hoping to mask the scent though I know it'll fail.
But ya know. Might go down fighting.

I havent been clean for a few months now.
I smell like alcohol.
My bag has been abused as a safe keeping place for substances.
I, AM, SCREWED.