finally going back home
"What are we if not just chemicals?"
Nothing. Niccolo was my partner in crime as I used to call him. The one who would sneak off on silly adventures to the park at midnight or go traveling to chinatown to bust into the budhist temple. He was the one I could buy random trinkets with and hang them from the ceiling. He was the one I did heroin with. Not just that. The small things were first. The trips to late night parking garage adventures. He made me feel special and that spark in me came alive again which I hadn't felt since I had left c-ville. Philadelphia was a cold place before he walked into my apartment on bainbridge.
My mother's house is where it all started. A long time ago. It was where I was most happy until I was a teenager. On medication. On drugs. Hooked on sex. then she was my enemy. I moved to dad's when i was fourteen almost fifteen and haven't been as happy ever since mom's house.
So I am moving back. Finally. after six/seven years I need to go home. my real home. with ann landers...now dear abby... toast, schedules, things that matter to me. friends, (real friends) books, adventures, errands, family.
I told Niccolo I was moving back. He didn't take it well. He is alone. COmpletely and I understand. His friends have turned to heroin addicts and while we are now off it, they are still on. They steal, cheat him,and yell at him when they don't get there way. He has no family in Philly. Now am I leaving. He is alone. He said he wanted to overdose and die. He left this afternoon with a bottle of whiskey and a phone call for ten bags. he said i could have his computer.
Worried. I regret the times I used to think of suicide and debate with friends the issue. I regret my selfishness. I regret heroin. I regret giving up the little adventures for the bigger ones. I regret not taking my time.
At the same time. I understand him. the unspeakable alone feeling. the bedroom cell and the prisoners of sleep and hopelessness. oversensitivity. i understand the want. If he dies...it's my fault. and yet i understand.
Nothing. Niccolo was my partner in crime as I used to call him. The one who would sneak off on silly adventures to the park at midnight or go traveling to chinatown to bust into the budhist temple. He was the one I could buy random trinkets with and hang them from the ceiling. He was the one I did heroin with. Not just that. The small things were first. The trips to late night parking garage adventures. He made me feel special and that spark in me came alive again which I hadn't felt since I had left c-ville. Philadelphia was a cold place before he walked into my apartment on bainbridge.
My mother's house is where it all started. A long time ago. It was where I was most happy until I was a teenager. On medication. On drugs. Hooked on sex. then she was my enemy. I moved to dad's when i was fourteen almost fifteen and haven't been as happy ever since mom's house.
So I am moving back. Finally. after six/seven years I need to go home. my real home. with ann landers...now dear abby... toast, schedules, things that matter to me. friends, (real friends) books, adventures, errands, family.
I told Niccolo I was moving back. He didn't take it well. He is alone. COmpletely and I understand. His friends have turned to heroin addicts and while we are now off it, they are still on. They steal, cheat him,and yell at him when they don't get there way. He has no family in Philly. Now am I leaving. He is alone. He said he wanted to overdose and die. He left this afternoon with a bottle of whiskey and a phone call for ten bags. he said i could have his computer.
Worried. I regret the times I used to think of suicide and debate with friends the issue. I regret my selfishness. I regret heroin. I regret giving up the little adventures for the bigger ones. I regret not taking my time.
At the same time. I understand him. the unspeakable alone feeling. the bedroom cell and the prisoners of sleep and hopelessness. oversensitivity. i understand the want. If he dies...it's my fault. and yet i understand.