I woke up on the sofa that I had been calling home for the past two months, feeling pretty rough. I'd been sofa-surfing for that long since being evicted from my previous flat with zero notice, as a result of multiple complaints from other residents of the building. They'd quite reasonably become fed up with the constant noise and parties, and things had come to a head.
I'd been caning whatever drugs I could find for a long time, but had a real problem with crack, using until I ran out of money, then thieving and defrauding others to get more. I'd also got a heroin habit, although it was pretty minimal (but growing rapidly).
This time, when I woke up, I had to face my boss. I'd not been in the office for three weeks or so, the stories about me were legion, and lurid, and I'd been called in for a last minute meeting as to my future. I was their top performer, but this was counterbalanced by my unreliability and ever more ludicrous excuses as to why I was absent (when I bothered to make one up).
It took me a while to get out of my duvet; it was late September, and the flat I was in was on the top floor of a block; a sauna in summertime but, due to the shape of the complex acting as a wind tunnel, a freezer in autumn and winter, my breath clouding in front of me and leading me through the flat.
I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with water, cold, of course. I had no money, and no power. Light was by candles, warm washes and baths were a thing of the past, and life was pretty much not worth living. To add to everything, not only was I trying to shake off that washed out, thick headed, heavy feeling of a crack comedown combined with a hangover, not only was I beginning to rattle, but I had to meet my boss, and as if that wasn't enough, I had to answer my bail, to be charged with fraud.
I leant into the sink, washed with watered down shower gel, improvised shaving foam and, as I scraped several weeks beard from my face with the bluntest of razors, I looked to the day ahead with little enthusiasm.
Early thirties, professional, responsible man with a very chequered history and a habit. I want to show that being a heroin user doesn't automatically make you a thieving, violent criminal. I'm pretty much happy with myself (addictions included) but kinda regret having no responsibility and being able to do whatever I like. Although I am grateful, these days, to have food in the fridge and 24hr gas and electric.
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
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