Reading back on my past four posts, I wish to myself that I can reach out and shake Dylan back to her senses. It’s futile, of course. What I can do instead is only shake my head in disbelief. For yes indeed, there is more of such foolishness to come:
In 2008, I spent one week in LA. It was there that I had my first taste of crystal meth. I spent the rest of my stay in North Hollywood buying and inhaling the drug. I lived in a trailer park and took showers (when possible) in random people’s bathrooms.
I was high as a kite while doing tattoos. One night, I shook so much from having no sleep combined with the drug’s side effects that I messed up a heart tattoo on a customer’s chest. That customer was a tough Latino who also happened to be deaf. He started pounding his fist on one hand. His gang started to do the same. They might have been kidding or they might have been not, I would never find out. But I was so paranoid from the drug, my heart wanted to leap straight out of me. I seriously thought I was going to be beaten up to a pulp that night.
I went with my acquaintances to shoplift for roast chicken and liquor at night from the grocery stores. We had to or else, we would not have anything to eat or drink. I was scrawny thin, with allergies on my face and chemicals in my brain.I could not look at myself in the mirror. We got pulled over by the cops one morning because our driver did not signal. Our driver was from Europe, did not have a driver’s license and was as on meth. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat and thought for sure I was going to jail. The cops let us go.
One day in Sta Monica Beach, I pulled away from the group. I walked up and down the Boulevard alone ; with no phone and no way of knowing how I would find them again. I simply stopped caring. If I got lost, so be it. I had no money in my pockets, no food in my stomach and zero hours of sleep. My contact lenses had not been cleaned for days. I wore clothes that had already begun to stink. My face was itching like mad. I kept walking.
A kind lady on the road asked me if I was OK. I can only imagine how I looked like to her. I tried to talk but nothing came out. I started crying instead and I could not stop. I had to walk away. I kept crying for a long time. Amidst the happy, tanned men and women, there I walked on the sunny streets of LA, alone and more frightened than I ever had been in my life.
I took the Greyhound bus back to San Francisco the next day. (I bought round trip tickets prior to setting out for LA). I arrived in the bus station deep into the night. I lay my body sideways on the chairs and willed myself to sleep for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.
I had no idea what I was doing to my life.
“My people hath been lost sheep: their shepherds have caused them to go astray, they have turned them away on the mountains: they have gone from mountain to hill, they have forgotten their resting place.”