part two...

My overall outlook had not always been as jaded as it had become in recent months, nor can i really say that the languid cynicism i had acquired of late had been the constant theme. i had, prior to a set of miserable circumstances, maintained a fairly positve attitude. unfortunately, the decisions i had made that led me to my current and ogre-esque environment had instilled a new sort of distaste for mankind, and all who categorized theselves as such. my life, as it existed within the fabric of time, had simply begun to be threaded by a substance not dissimilar from burlap. Without my realizing it, my demeanor bristled at the most simple of human interaction, and the feeling that i was unraveling became more and more prevalent. i was short with the people i cared about, and those who were kind enough to call my rapidly devolving state to my attention were met with stoicism and resentment. The good samaritans met my solicitations with generosity were met with an arrogant sense of entitlement. I felt i deserved far more than this world and everything it's lousy inhabitants could offer. My troubles and hardship had amounted to an amount exponentially greater than mere human comprehension.
With all of the weight i had piled upon myself, and welcomed into my being with reckless abandon, i dragged myself from my earth-laden bed (a light-weight sleeping-bag spread out upon a tarp), and set out for a day of panhandling and regret. Before speaking to my still sleeping partner in crime, i quietly slipped a small leather pouch from my pocket, and set about to "fix". The term "fix", and the act of "fixing" in and of itself has always cast a quiet and pleasurable sort of reverence over me. For those who are unaware to what it is i grant this distinction, "to fix" or "fixing" is the act of preparing drugs for consumption, ultimately leading to the act of consuming. In my case, i had chosen the most unfavorable of these, the scourge of the illicit, the most heinous and disgustingly seductive: heroin. For me, fixing had become an idyllic and perfect ritual. Of all illegal and socially frowned-upon pasttimes, heroin use seems the most overly romanticized. I was aware that i had become one of those that i had, so many times before, frowned upon. This brings about the other aspect of fixing: that, definitively, addressing preparation and usage of a substance as "fixing" implies that without said substance, one is broken. So heart-wrenching and beautifully tragic, the addict's vernacular.