I've been so desperate to eat I went on a skunk hunt. I'd hardly puffed
anything since a few days before my birthday. I'd been keeping this to
myself. It start off as depression. I didn't care any more. I couldn't
be arsed to score any more. In my measure of depression that's the
bleakest thing I've thought in a long time.
I've barely been eating. Still nothing in 2 days. Well. Just a nibble of
a few chickpeas. Literally a few. I was getting scared I'd be
hospitalised. I am dying. I know. Great as that may be this method would
only lead to me collapsing and ending up in hospital. This is a crappy
method to die. I know quicker ones. Much more effective ones than
starving myself.
So I went on a skunk hunt. I went to a really sketch area and went
around trying to score. No luck though. The reason why good skunk
dealers are so successful is because they're a little bit paranoid. They
don't trust me because I'm not from the area and a bit weird. So no luck.
I headed off to another high potential area. It was late and I should
have gone home. But I only made it to the bus stop when I got to Wood
Green. There was a group of people there and as I walked past with a
roll up one asked if I wanted something. This was right outside where I
was going to go to this high potential drug area.
I wasn't expecting much and I didn't get much. A £10 for £20. The next
few moment are blurry but not because I puffed. I was pretty drunk by
this stage of the night.
I turned round a corner and where the group I'd walked past been there
was just a guy getting his head beaten in with a bat and people running
away. They were young people. Under-18.
As I reflected on the way home I thought I should have put my bag down.
Instead I just reacted. I dove at the first person lain on the floor
being beaten by two or three others a bit older than his age.
Surprisingly for all of us, they scattered. I can only describe events
and memories. I moved on to the next guy being beaten and for some
unknown reason they ran too. I'm not big. I'm not strong. I'm not scary.
So why dud they run?
The first guy was bleeding but people were looking after him. He'd been
beaten in the head with an implement. A metal rod like thing with
stuff...just not a plain mental rod. He was bleeding from the back of
the head. Someone had called an ambulance. The girl who was talking to
him was making sure he was conscious. She was doing the right thing
though he was annoyed. I explained she was doing the right thing. He'd
been hit on the head and I bet he was a tough young kid but who knows?
I felt alone and out of place. I didn't know what the hell was going on.
I left. There was nothing I could do. The girl was doing the right
thing. He listened to me I hope because I have a posh voice and I jumped
in to save his life. Yeah. I know. I should appreciate that. It took
about an hour or so. Anyway, I was thinking there was more I could do
and I was a mess about other thoughts I was having. But I realised no
one would have the sense to get some tissue and put some pressure on the
wound. I've watched enough TV to know that it's probably a good thing. I
went to McDonald's and got the tissue and gave it to the people around
the first guy to sort out. I should have checked the second guy in
retrospect. Shit. Shit.
I cried a bit on the way home but I wasn't sure if it was real or for
attention or just me continuing what I was feeling before the fight or
expressing emotion and adrenaline after the fight. (btw - I didn't throw
a punch. Just used my 'he's totally mad. Don't fuck with him. If you
fight him, make sure you're ready to kill him' persona. I make this
sound like a decision. It just happened.
I felt bad afterwards and I don't know why. It took me some time to
process. It ended up me telling the London Underground guy where I live
who stopped me when I was drinking a beer about how 'cool' I am. I hate
that arrogant side but I needed to let it out at that moment. You know
what. On reflection. I didn't do bad. That kid could have been worse off
had I not been me and where I was meant to be: unhappy. suicidal,
hungry, in need of skunk and at the right place at the right time. I
hope the other one did ok. He was just getting punched but I'm barely
remembering what happened. It happened fast.
I'm going to have a skunk spilff now. I deserve it. And I hope I eat. In
a tiny way I hope I live. If I need to be there again for someone. This
evening in a small way was really tangible. Does that make any sense?
No comments:
Post a Comment