soon”
Twenty minutes into a history lecture it’d hit me all at once
I’d go from being so, so low, to shooting all the way up
I got accustomed to the sickness because it was the precursor to the high I was chasing
I wanted to constantly feel that amazing.
Towards the end of the day is when it would start to get sticky,
An emotionally draining and painful detox, makes paying attention a bit tricky
I would sit in my English class and try to ignore the pattern in which my muscles would shake
I would watch the clock and wait to get out, so I could smoke some weed to soothe the ache
I’d meet up with one of my best friends, go get high in the boat in his garage
Then I’d go home and give my calves a massage
Often times, I’d take another eight pills later that night, thinking it might help me sleep
But really, I tripped for two years and barely slept a peep
I could only doze when I was detoxing hard enough
And even then it was just a bluff
I’d oversleep hoping my mom wouldn’t force me to go to school
Keeping my addiction hidden from her became my number one rule
But other than that, there isn’t a whole lot I can remember from those days
I think when I got sober it all got hidden away
Somewhere far, far, far back in the very depths of my brain
Buried along with everything else that has ever caused me pain.
PART II
[13 years old]
We smoked before school all of the time
Wake goes with bake like lemon to lime
Eyedrops in my eyes
Quickly normalized
An ancient stoner paradigm
Part III
[13 years old]
I sit on my bed as I cry
I have run all out of supply
“Please, buy me drugs?”
He gives me a hug
“I can find some weed, if you buy.”
Disappearance
[14 years old]
A rough week, the talk of hospitalization weighty in the air around me,
My best friend in Parkside, and a relapse on triple cs
It’s a cold November night and I am all alone
My mom and brother are both at work so I am the only one at home.
I sit in the living room in the dark, zoning out into nothing
There’s a knock at the door; it’s late and I didn’t expect to have anyone coming
I get up and go to the front door, there I find an old family friend
I know her son, he played baseball with my brother way back when
I haven’t spoken to her in years
I’m confused as to why she is here
“Do you know anything about the disappearance of Nikkita Dawning?”
It takes a second for me to register it, and a moment longer to keep myself from fainting.
She runs me through the details: a sleep over at a friend’s house she never returned from.
I spoke to that girl only two days ago, what have I done?
She called me to say she was moving to California and that she was sorry for breaking my heart
I told her I respected the fact she finally owned up to hurting me, but that being friends with her would be too hard
I didn’t want to let her back in, she still caused too much pain
If I had reacted differently would things still be the same?
“You know where I live, so stop by if you have any more information.”
She leaves and I run to my room, where I become pinned to my door by the desperation of the situation
I slide to the floor and can’t help but sob my fucking heart out
I know who she is with, but I don’t know how it came about
I know, I know, I know she left with the boy she loved, and that she could be anywhere
Or do I? What if she left to kill herself and she wanted us all to be spared?
I dig through my underwear drawer, find my pills, swallow them all
When the love of your life vanishes you realize the world isn’t that small
She could be an hour away, fourteen hours away, a fucking lifetime away
All I can think is: is she safe? Is she happy? Is she high? Has she eaten today?
I rack my brain and find the courage to walk the few blocks to the Schiavo’s
I show them her Tumblr and posts she made about being ready to leave, she planned it all out, how she would go
I remembered seeing them before and being confused as to what they meant
I bring them up now to remind everyone, and myself, that I don’t think she’s dead.
I am asked to go to her house and speak with her parents, it might help them to know the things that I do
When we arrive, they both hugged me tightly and said “We missed you.”
Nikki and I haven’t been friends in months, I don’t even know the last time I had been inside of her house; I feel like an impostor sitting in her living room
Her absence is so unbelievably present in the deepening gloom
I give her parents a run down of her mental health and drug abuse, as much as I had known
She
