Desperate?

“Oh look! Attractive people!” shouts Bunny, pointing excitedly out the second story window.

“Where? Who? Where?!” comes a chorus of intrigued yelps as Kerri and Hannah spring from their beanbag and rush to the window in anticipation. You see, in the area of south London in which we live, it’s rare to see someone who isn’t either frothing at the mouth or missing at least half their limbs, so when you spot someone genuinely good looking, it’s quite a treat.

“Wait, I think those are kids…” says Kerri, squinting.

“Those aren’t kids,” answers Hannah. “They just look small because they’re far away.”

Bunny: “Whatever. I could be into it.”

It’s 8am. I’m sitting in our living room surrounded by half empty beer cans and puke, eating an out-of-date microwavable lasagna that I fished out of a dumpster behind Tescos. I couldn’t find a fork so I’m sort of scooping the sloppy layers of pasta and cheese into my mouth with a tube of mascara. Bunny, Hannah and Kerri are all huddled around Hannah’s phone, Googling “How to get high on household products.” They’ve run out of drugs and are now desperately trying to get more fucked-up by huffing / snorting / eating / injecting whatever toxic shit they can find lying around the house. It’s not going well.

“Do you think you can get wasted by downing a whole pack of antidepressants?” asks Hannah. She’s staring down at a handful of small white pills. She seems confused, lost—i.e. not dissimilar to how she looks ninety-nine percent of the time.

“Nah…” says Bunny. “Already tried it.”

“It says online that snorting the green Lucky Charms can make you trip…” slurs Kerri. “That’s gotta be a joke, right?”

“Can’t we just eat some moldy bread or something?” says Hannah, verging on hopelessness. “We have enough of that lying around.”

Kerri: “I think you can die from that.”

Bunny: “Whatever. I could be into it.”

The three of them collapse onto the floor, their limp bodies sprawled across each other on the ugly green carpet. Dazed eyes flittering in and out of consciousness.

Drugs can make people beautiful and they can make people evil. Normally it’s a combination of the two. Right now, however, I think it’s leaning more toward the latter. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. Some of my favorite people are absolutely vile human beings.

“You know when you’re so fucked that you feel like you might just die?” says Bunny, wet eyes deep in contemplation, like he might OD on thought or something. “… like you could just slowly fade away and not even notice?” I nod my head in agreement. He doesn’t see me.

This desire to constantly escape reality—to forget oneself in drugs or sex or sleep or, uh… magic—might seem desperate to some. But I think there’s a beauty in blurring the line between reality and fantasy, allowing oneself to float within a world where what’s real and what’s imagined blend into one misty, sonic daydream. Because, like, the real world is really fucking boring. I’m so over conscious existence…

I’m wasting my life. I am, I know it. So are my friends. We’re all fuck-ups. We’re all fucked-up. Our heads are full of drugs and death. The scary part is, it’s kinda fun.

Kerri and Bunny eating dinner

Yum

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