Past the Point

Everyone's always looking for consistency. This incessant search for congruity never seems to end so long as one lives. What's worse is that those who find that congruity are scarce. For those select few, they get to taste the freedom that comes with the privilege of knowing what's next. They get to feel safe and secure and develop a routine that becomes as solid and unbreakable as their will to retain it. Then there are those that aren't so lucky.

They live their days in uncertainty, unsure of their next move or their tomorrows. A burden this is not for those who love the oscillation of their lives, who thrive upon the thrill of doubt. This is where I come in. I become that outlet for the growing group of hopelessness that just can't seem to figure out what to do with themselves. I become that sole opportunity for those worthless disasters that have little inclination to even try to piece themselves back together. I provide that tiny morsel of profligacy that keeps them from ending their sorry lives before I'm through with them.

I am their lifeline, their security, their inclination; their ecstasy.

Nothing brings me greater joy than being there for that pathetic soul whose bones are ridden with fear. Those shaky hands that can't seem to grab hold of anything for support are never clumsy enough to forego popping a few more of me to take off that insatiable edge. When people have no means, they have no cares. I feed off of their carelessness. I become sneaky, immune to intervention and sacred. I'm considered near and dear, shielded from view of anyone who might be opposed to my influence. I also appear in the oddest of places.

You can find me in your mother's old aspirin bottle, tucked away in an old shoe box or underwear drawer. Sometimes you'll dig me up in an old pack of gum, each pierced hole of aluminum replenished with a fresh capsule. When you're as desperate as they are, you get creative. The hiding places get better by the binge. I've had cheerleaders hide me with their birth control and jocks with their breath mints. I had a pitiful teenage poet hide me in his fountain pen cap, a pre-pubescent model harbour me in her hollow stilettos and a secretive soccer mom stash me in her laundry hamper. Long-time favourites like the pillowcase and the medicine cabinet in the bathroom are classic and my cohorts learn their own tricks on how to deal with meddling pests.

The best part of being me though, is watching how happy I get to make everyone. If you don't get satisfaction from watching a bunch of kids totally tune out the degenerate world around them, you're fucked up. But not as fucked up as they are. After a few of me, hell, they're so out of it they think they're standing on the ceiling. The way that they teeter back and forth on their heels, trying to stand or walk or even think, just shows me how free they are. Screw boundaries, these kids don't know the meaning of the word. In those few hours where parents don't exist, homework doesn't matter and the world is their fucking oyster, they get a chance to be total screw-ups and be happy with it. They don't get to be one of those lucky people that knows it all, does it all and lives like a god. They get to be even luckier than those serendipitous asses because regardless of what everyone around them says, regardless of the fact that they don't have it all figured out, they've got an angle for when things go wrong. They know how to make it right, which is more than any rational, run-of-the-mill realist can claim.

In that precious moment when people hit their peak, that moment of complete euphoria where you feel so high, you're untouchable; that's where you get to see them. Whatever someone does at that precise second can tell you everything you need to know about them. If they scream or shout, they're trouble. They're wild and crazy and not to be messed with. If they slump over or smile sheepishly, they're lightweights and as easy as they get. But hey, I don't judge. They're all my friends. I'm their friend. I make them happy, they make me happy. It's a cycle, but it's a cycle that works. There is no end to this cycle, just to its enforcers. Let's face it, these kids don't last long. Young bodies get weak before they can get strong, they grow older, they grow weaker and then they die looking for their next fix. It's touching to see the lengths they go to for me, how hard they strive to show they care, but they're feeble. Despite it all, the cycle goes on, and it never ends.

The other day, this middle-aged woman inquired about me with one of her son's dirty friends. She's known for so long the game this kid plays, but she wants out of her life. She wants a moment to herself, out of her own shoes so that she can feel good again. She bought enough of me to keep her happy for a few solid days, but she was impatient. She gobbled me up like 10-cent candy corn. I was gone before the weekend started and her husband was gone before the weekend ended. He took their son with him, too. Drove him up North cause he was sick of being with his wife. He never knew about the drugs, but that doesn't matter now. She's lost everything, and through all of the shit, who's there for her? I'm there for her, that's who. I'm not a bad influence. Like I told you, I'm quite the contrary. I'm the best thing in the world for you. When you finally wake up one day and realize that you're worthless and can't do anything about it, you'll come looking for me. You'll end up wanting me so bad, I'll make you hurt, I'll make you cry, I'll make you do things you've never dreamed of but most importantly, I'll be there for you.

When you lose your job, I'll be there for you. When they repossess the house, I'll be there for you. When you flunk algebra, I'll be there for you. When your family kicks you out, I'll be there for you. When everybody else abandons you, I'll be there for you. As long as you can keep me there, I'll be there. But when the day comes that you can't move, you can't speak and you can't breathe; when the day comes that you're in the worst rut of your life and no fix will help you, I won't be there.

This is not a therapy group, it's a cycle. It's a business. When you're gone, you're gone. I can't help you after that, and I won't try to. I'm here to show you that life's not the biggest deal. It can be the greatest thing you ever do, or it can be the worst, but it'll never be the biggest, so don't fight it.

Life isn't something to be taken seriously. Nobody gets out alive.

I'm just here to make sure.