Drug Diaries Episode 2: Floodgates

Will it ever stop raining? I wondered. I was cold, oh so cold; the rain slowly seeping into the pores of my skin creating weariness from my quick fading high. There were only two options. The latter, not very pleasing, but if I was to take my recovery seriously, I had to go with the…

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Will it ever stop raining? I wondered.

I was cold, oh so cold; the rain slowly seeping into the pores of my skin creating weariness from my quick fading high. There were only two options. The latter, not very pleasing, but if I was to take my recovery seriously, I had to go with the former. I crush the blunt and watch it as it disintegrated into the murky brown earth.

And then the thought hit me. Why shouldn’t I mix both options? Boy, would Dr. Ladipo be in for a treat. After all, he was the one who encouraged me to be as open as possible.

Dr. Ladipo sat in his plush office anticipating with curious dread what his newest case would bring forth today. Over the course of a week, his perceptions of life had changed almost overnight with the single appearance of this girl – Fareeda. After their first meeting, he had fixed her on a once-a-week schedule.

She had not attended their sessions for a month after that. She only sent him a journal every week, chronicling her life as an addict. She offered no opinions, preferring to tell the story as it was and keeping her tone as stoic as possible. Yet, he kept her space open, believing she would make another unannounced entrance just like she made her debut in his life.

At exactly, 12:00am she walked in unannounced, went to his tape recorder, threw it on the floor, plugged her phone into his speakers and waited till the appropriate song was playing.

Heaven or Las Vegas – The Weeknd

“I’ve always loved the title of this song even though the lyrics means shitsquat to me, because my life was exactly that. Oh and sorry about your recorders, I don’t want my sessions taped. I’d rather be your dirty little secret if it’s okay with you. Heaven or Las Vegas eh?

Before I became an addict, my life was steered towards two courses: becoming or marrying successful and making it to heaven. I wanted to be the nameless stranger who paraded the streets of Vegas fulfilling dreams and being heard about with the softest whisper and biggest smile.”

“Tell me about your parents, Fareeda.”

“I’m the one doing all the talking here, so keep your fake psychologist juju and let me finish. Today, I will show you just how hard it will be to handle me and after I’m done, you decide if you still want me as your filthy little patient.”

Dr. Ladipo could only look on.

“So my parents. They are nice people, good, but a bit too naïve despite the hue life existing right outside their walls. There was this fancy club pretty close to my house and every night, I would listen to the music pinning to get out. I couldn’t dance to it because then, I would be sent to do chores or scolded, anything to stop me dancing to the devil’s poisonous tune. I couldn’t fix weaves in my hair, braids, paint my nails, or use red lipstick. I was expected to be plain and do my possible best to almost repel male attention. So here’s what I did.”

And with that, I took my trousers off.

Dr. Ladipo panicked.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax, I’m not sexually assaulting you. Well, not on purpose anyway.” I said laughing.

I closed my eyes and for the briefest of moments, I wanted to zip my pants off and blot, but the meth was fueling my mischievous instincts and some sane part of me egged it on.

“I used to touch myself, Dr. Ladipo. I never even knew masturbation existed and had a word, but with my life, it was all I could do to stay hopeful.”

Dare Ladipo could only stare. Lord knows he tried not to; he tried. To get up, hand her trousers back and tell her to leave. That without the burden of her secret, his life would be better. That if word got out, his career would take a huge hit. Sexual assault suits flew round the face of his inner fears and he swallowed. At this point, she took her top off too, standing there in nothing but a worn out bra and panties that were too big.

“I used to sleep like this so no one found it odd that every night with alarming consistency, I got rid of my clothes and told my sisters that having the light on was affecting my eyes. They would turn it off and mind whatever petty business attracted them and I would lay, legs and hands under my sheets letting my hands wander and give me untold pleasures.”

With that, I lay down and proceeded to show him the literal interpretations of my words.

“It was glorious. I was the secret rebel. Without fail each night, the club DJ would get to a slow jams session and in that moment, my eyes would close and give my hands silent electric instructions which were translated into ecstasy in my nerve endings.”

I was going, my hands moving with the silent rhythm of my words.

She was touching herself and with every sentence, her voice broke a little bit more and behind the incoming pleasure, Dr. Ladipo could sense shameful tears. He coughed, but she seemed oblivious to him and anyone.

“I learnt how to please my body in ways no one would be able to accomplish for a long time. Even after I had tasted real sex, I would go back and rehash the painful sweetness that was my idyllic captivity. The meth only made it better, so much better. It was my slice of heaven in a world of hellish torture. I was drunk on myself.”

I heaved a silent sigh of relief, got up, put my clothes back on, disconnected my phone and sat.

Dr. Ladipo was silent for the next ten minutes. He remained silent for another ten. And with that, I walked out, tears forming fast in my eyes.

The bastard! He didn’t want me anymore. I was going to ruin his precious image. I wasn’t worth being saved. No one could save me. But I would come back. Come back and torture him till he budged and helped me. His voice stopped me at the doorway.

“See you next week Fareeda.”

*******************

This series is written by @FareedaKhalo. Comments and feedback will be appreciated.

 

Responses

  1. Tiki
    This is fascinating insight into the mind of an addict – it's entrancing how the meth helps her let go of her inhibitions, but she still wants to be saved, and redeemed. Butresses my opinion that behind every mental illness, is a shitty childhood and a sex-related issue.

    Can't wait to read what the Doctor does with this one!

  2. PreyingMantis
    The title of this piece keeps working against it – Drug Diaries.

    Occasionally tossing in the word 'meth' doesn't make this a drug/recovering addict story. Apparently 'meth' is also the only drug you know as the writer and your character portrays this. Is the word 'Diaries' loosely used here? As a diary, I expect the day of the week, date, and an entry from its owner. This story isn't structured in that manner.

    I didn't experience the character's emotional conflict. Behaving like a retard (the whole taking off her clothes + masturbation scene + the talk about being a secret rebel) represents nothing. It was all information dumping. It only shows you have nothing to write about; you have no material to work with. Today's plot was centred around a lame sexual act blamed on the use of meth. Let's see what you can come up with, when she's not 'high'.

    She doesn't want her sessions taped and yet she sends in a journal every week, chronicling her life as an addict which ironically, readers aren't privy to. Doesn't make sense. Because this piece is tasteless and still doesn't show she's an addict.

    Lastly, "The bastard! He didn’t want me anymore". Want her anymore as what? A patient? What kinda outburst is that? Sounds more like a lover's outburst.

    If this was a series on tv, I'd have turned off my set.

    You are way in over your head.

    1. thetoolsman
      I'm 5 seasons deep into some TV shows and I didn't like them even after watching the first 10 episodes.

      Must all titles be taken literally? Because it's called 'Drug Diaries', does that mean it must be written as actually diary entries? I can title this same series Mantis for all I care, it's an identity, the task of selling that identity then falls to marketing team. Stick to your area of strength and while at it keep the criticisms constructive.

      I'll still say you're being impatient but since I don't see that changing maybe you should 'turn off the tv' on this one…

      1. PreyingMantis
        Now you're being a girl about this. Keep the criticism constructive? Has anyone died? Chin up.

        You obviously missed my question: "Is the word ‘Diaries’ loosely used here?". Emphasis on the word 'loosely'. Now, whether you agree or not, this isn't an abstract and the title of this crap will always be referenced. The title creates a frame work for the story. You should know that.

        How difficult is this to understand? Everything about this is a struggle. What are the features/characteristics of a drug addict? How does she fund her habit? By sleeping around? Rich folks? A job? Apart from the fact that she's from a normal home, what else do we know? There's no characterization here. How does she look? Gaunt? Cracked lips? Bloodshot eyes? Dirty fingernails? Malnourished? Fidgety? (Note, that this also applies to the psychologist). This piece doesn't say. Rather, what you telling me is some silly tale about the character being a secret rebel. Who's a rebel in 'secret'? Doesn't that nullify the purpose of being a rebel in the first place?

        Do I hear you say, be patient? I do not have to be patient to sense or anticipate or catch a glimpse before I actually read it. Turn the story around and quit defending mediocrity.

      2. thetoolsman
        You only just validated my point. You've read less than 3000 words of the series and you expect all or most of what you listed to come through?

        Also, may I remind you that the use of drugs doesn't always result in 'standard symtoms' in everyone. My reaction to a sniff of meth might be melancholia while for you it could be deliriant.

        As for the title I got your question all right and I still stand by what I said before. And just incase you missed it, there's a narration going along side the story. But like I said, if you can't be patient enough with it then please you know what you need to do.

  3. Drpeperempe
    Good point mantis! I feel like the story wld still pick up tho. As for the person who said it seems more like a sex addict, drugs make you disinhibited (psychiatry) and said person could have erotomania(again psychiatry)!

    Twitter:

  4. Chibuzo nweze
    Wow, a very interesting read, was drawn into the story after the first paragraph. I need to bookmark this site asap!! Really Lookin forward to next week's post.
  5. PreyingMantis
    Toolsman, whether you are melancholic or delirious after drug use, put it in the story. Period.

    You want comments and feedback. Now you have it. Deal with it. Find consolation in the first five people who liked the story.

  6. @the_darkenigma
    Wow, a very interesting read, was drawn into the story after the first paragraph. I need to bookmark this site asap!! Really Lookin forward to next week’s post
  7. Muna
    I must confess the comments here are more interesting than the story itself. I love this brewing Toolsman vs. PreyingMantis batlle. WE should turn it into a "Writer Competition" of its own. I bet Toolsman will happily embrace the idea.. Hehehehehe.

    Ur criticisms shaaa O!!! U have a very valid point today. But i still wont take you serious till i read your own write-up.

  8. Frankices
    I reli want to enjoy this. I feel like I wud too. Thoroughly. Its building up nicely.

    But I'm curious. She seems to have sum power over him. She insults n disrespects him n gets away with it. Why? Wat is it?

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