The Best of Times

A short narration of two days inside the head of a drug addict.

The Best of Times

by Pat Rickard

Part One

She's yelling at me. It's about something I don't care about. Listening is overrated. I think I'll stop doing it. Look at her, waving her arms, tears flowing down her face, a little stream running left and right through the contours of her face. She looks really upset. I decide it's time to leave.

I doubt she'll still be there when I get home. I even more so doubt that I will care. It's a good thing I don't eat anymore or I might be mad that there will be no dinner waiting for me then. Time to stop thinking about the future, it doesn't matter. I'm having too good a time right now. I need somewhere to do a little more of It The obvious answer would be to do It the privacy of my office. I turn around. Work is in the other direction.

I wonder how easy it would be to burn this building down. I look out my window, over top forty stories of concrete slabs that other people dedicated their lives to. I had been one of those people once. No use thinking about the past. I notice my door isn't fully closed. I can see my secretaries eyes. She's

not looking this way. Time to take It out.

It's only an hour into the work day, but I think I've successfully worn out my welcome at this place. My door is closed now, but I'm not alone. My boss is here. Quite an average man, of average height, average weight, and average unimportance. He's always been nice to me, always interested in my work, although he would let me do my own thing. I'm good at what I do. This job is just no longer what I do. He seems really angry. He reminds me of her. They both remind me of It, and the rush It provided. I shiver. I wish he would just hurry up and fire me.

I spent the afternoon in the park. Walking, sitting, watching, smoking cigarettes. It's been a good day. I didn't even mind the rain. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. Little drops of water, falling all the way from the sky just to shatter at MY feet, a mere mortal man. My supply is getting low. It being day one of unemployment means I still have money. I take out my phone.

I like this place. I don't think anything works in here. A lot of the things inside are broken. We're sitting at one of his tables. It appears dirty, cluttered. I know that it's not. It's just used, often. I look up. I see the man. He's holding my money. I look down at my hands and feel happy. They are not empty. I really do like this place. Time to get busy. I smile at him and take It out.

I'm at the park again. This time it's dark. And solitary. I'm sitting at a table. I think I was here earlier today. Or yesterday to be exact. The table is wood, not good. I reach into my bag and take out my laptop. It's broken, the victim of being thrown against the wall. All I need is the flat surface. I'm not feeling so good. I think I just need to do It a little more.

Part Two

I can barely remember who I once was. I look up and around. This place is too white, too clean. Once upon a time, I would have been happy about that. I'm not anymore. Not after the things I've down. I look up and see my counselor walking towards me. I wonder what she has to say.

I barely remember that night. I don't think I should have survived it, and in a perfect world, I wouldn't have. I was happier then. It made me happier. I miss It. I used to be successful, and that was good. When It came along, I started to be more than just externally successful. I was happy, and in my head, that's what success was. Not the job, the car, or the sight snatching, sexy girlfriend. It was It. It was everything that I wanted, everything that I needed, everything that I was. It also brought me here. To these f*****g walls that I can't escape. I guess it doesn't matter. If I was out there, I'd still feel this way. I would feel empty and over until I had It. Until I felt It take over me. I don't miss the life I had before It. I guess It broke me.

I wouldn't change it for the world.

Author's Note

First short story I've written in quite a while, just looking for a little feedback.

Reviews

[TTBoy28]

It almost reads like an episode of "The Twilight Zone." All the pressures of trying to maintain - thinking all that made you happy...only to realize that once behind the inescapable walls, it wasn't worth the pressure. Not missing the life you had before could make one think that you had finally let go. What an ending for a snap reaction. Nice story!