(no subject)

I had to take my mother to the emergency room
this evening, as she bashed her hand very badly
at work. Blood everywhere. Stupid fucking bathroom
doors.

They're very heavy and they swing shut very
fast and hard. She was going through the door,
but had turned around to reply to something
I said. The door caught her left ring finger,
just under the nail bed. Stitches ensued. One
of which goes directly through the nail to
hold it on until further notice.

I held her hand through the whole thing, reminding
her to breathe and telling her everything was
going to be okay. It reminded me of when I
was in 7th grade and I had put my hand through
a window at a friend's house. 14 stitches and
I screamed like a banshee throughout the entire
process. She was with me during that, holding my
free hand and telling me over and over it
was going to be okay.

Sometimes, I feel like such a disappointment
of a daughter.

The ER doctor gave her two Percocet, for the
pain. I just had to cut one of them in half for
her, because she was starting to hurt bad again.

I stood in the kitchen, sharp knife in hand and
the little blue pill resting on the counter in
front of me. Spit rushed into my mouth, as I
stared at it. And my palms began to sweat.

I had evil thoughts of shoving them down my
throat and telling her that I dropped the pills
in the sink. bad bad bad bad bad
Stupid fucking junkie thoughts, they are. I'd
never do such a thing.

But, sometimes, when the nights are bad and
I can only see pain behind my eyes...I really
miss those little blue pills. I never stop wanting
to take them. I never stop wanting to feel
that drift and bliss.

I reckon that's what addiction is. And I also
suppose I'll feel that until my last days.

This hasn't been a very good week, really. Or
a really good night. My brother is dealing with
the OD death of a young friend of his. He's also
dealing with the death of the timing belt in
his car. I'm trying to adjust to Dorothea not
being around anymore and to the hectic pace of
a new job. And my mother just spent quite some
time in the hospital, having needles jabbed into
an open wound.

I also had my heart in my throat, just a moment
ago. Thinking that something was true. I'm not
discussing this, though. NO. I won't go there.
I will not allow it.