Short Shelf Lives

 It's no secret that drug addicted prostitutes have short shelf lives full of self imposed misery. It's also a well known fact that you can't interject your will on them, hoping to improve their self destructive tendencies. 

I saw her the day before she died. She could barely move. She was in excruciating pain. I've never seen her like that. Nearly immobilized. She told me she was horribly dope sick. I decided to bring her to her dealer and give her $20 to get off E. She's been seeing a guy during the day that was apparently in love with her, though she brushed off any mutual feelings. It makes no difference to me, if someone is involved in a relationship. Though one day I showed up early and saw her walking off with another man, only to subtly shoo me away. I may beat second option, but that didn't stop our indiscretions. All's fair in love and war, as you may have previously read that I already fucked her a couple times in her tent. If that guy wants to fall in love with a hooker, know that he's not renting an apartment, he's staying in a hostel. Then again, I loved her too. 

Most people have a fundamental misunderstanding of love. They think it's possession, greed, a sense of commitment or loyalty, imposing demands, and other nonsense. 

Draw a line. Write on opposing ends the words hate and love. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING falls somewhere on that line. I love the color blue, but not as much as a good book. So, they fall on different parts of our love/hate spectrum. Friends and family are high on the list, a good dinner may be slightly higher. You can place annoying on this line. Someone you love goes on there too. They are placed on the line grouped together with what you value most. The things in life you most love. That's all it is. You can love your grandma, your pet, your wife, and a good meatball sub. It's all relative. 

This girl was high on my list. She's stolen from me, treated me badly at times, it's been rocky. I have a thick skin. It allows me to do things that other would disregard. Such as carrying her to my car that night. I drove her to her dealer, in the woods with the cousin of all people. I have her $20, and she shuffled into the woods. Some time later she emerged with her "medication." We returned to her tent, and I parked the car. I carried her in my arms halfway back to her tent before allowing her to piggyback the rest of the way. 

The whole time, she kept refusing to go to the hospital, saying she had to wait till her doctor approved her new medications or something. I was only half listening because I tune out when it sounds like bullshit.

Her tent was clean with an inflatable bed when I first saw it, but now the bed was missing, and she was in a pig stye. Her bucket of shit reeked throughout the tent, making breathing difficult. She insisted she was good now, and that I didn't need to stay out worry about her. I remain unconvinced. I returned to my car down the small path out of the woods. The whole time I felt a terrible guilt in leaving her in a tent in that condition. However, I have learned that there is nothing one can do. I can't force her to do anything. 

It was only later that I would learn that I could have forced my hand and called 911 for a wellness check. Had I called for professional help, perhaps she would still be alive. I won't let myself dwell on that thought any longer. I know that this was her inevitable end. She had expressed on numerous occasions her regrets, apologetic for the way she lived her life. 

It's not just her. There's so many like her. I don't know how to help them. It's not my place to even do so. I just remember as a kid being in a bad mood and sulking, wanting everyone to leave me alone... But deep down wanting someone there to step in and cheer me up. I wanted someone to not allow me to languish in misery. I think we all want that. Say one thing and mean another. For those who say they don't need anyone, they all listen for a knock at the door.