So, there I am, looking at him, sitting with my back to the party and opening a tiny bag of coke. I take another look at him and I think, “fuck, I’ve just met this guy, he's quite cool... am I fucking this up?”, and then ignoring the shame I imagine people think of when they think of us “the drug doers” I insert my hotel room key in the tiny bag, get some of the goodies and snore it up my nose. Here, I say almost immediately, do you want some? Yes, is the answer that I was expecting. Then we switch places and I see him do exactly the same thing.
Done, we are back in the party and nothing has happened. We, the “drug addicts”, my parents would say, those dark tremendously sad and bad people who do horrible things; “unimaginable lives they must live”.
We. We go for a glass of water and sit down somewhere afar from the dance floor. I know he's been thinking of kissing me but I'm terrible at this flirting game and I am tremendously nervous, so I start chatting again and at some point we're talking about our families and how hard it is not to grow up copying what we reject from our folks. We're all in a way always talking about our families.
I take a look around. Everyone is so fucking happy. I can see my closest friends, people I know from childhood… and if I think about it, I can point out everyone I know that is doing drugs today. All those crazy motherfuckers which I love and are some of the best people I’ve ever met. “Terrible deranged people”, they would say. No, really, it's not true… but you cannot see it and we cannot say it because we are just to used to not talking about the things that matter, about the real things, about what has been frawned upon; we are just to scared of the judgment and you are just too judgy to hear. We hide because our choice of "happy drugs" for today are not your type, because they are not socially approved, because laws have made it such that they feed within a horrible cycle of violence... but hey, want another wiskey? Who cares man, it's a wedding, lets get fucked!
This is me, mama, the same girl with whom you had coffee yesterday, the daughter you love, the conflicted one, the hard working one, the one that wants to change the world and craft her own life. This is me, here, there, on drugs and very very sober. I'm the same person.
I remember being on the other side... thinking drugs, such a terrible thing, I’ll never know anyone who does them… but then I grew open and found them. After giving it a long though I start to let them in, with caution, as you would with anyone (I smile), specially into your own home... and it is all good. Drugs are just part of whole conundrum... we need to open the discussion.
Now, as I lay down here, next to him, early, hidrated, back home safe, I think, wow what an awesome night I had! ... I know that I'll get up early, exhausted and go back home, get to work, start again, go to the market and have a quite regular day walking around as a "normal person"... of course, one that doesn't do drugs… And I won’t be able to talk about it but with my other very cool “drug addicted” friends. We will laugh, have fun and meet again in a couple of months and it will all be good... oh, if everyone who did drugs now and then would only open up... maybe people would realize if very different than the idea they have and we could start a real conversation about it. Silence is big part of the problem.
But what about him?… nah he's fine, don't worry about him, he just always gets just fuck-faced at parties. He’s ok, he just loves having fun. We all get drunk once in a while don’t we.
Hypocrites.