It is as matter fact, according to the state of addicts’’ bowels and their habits of exercise. By contrast, cocaine is much less pleasant consume, easily becomes associated with dependent behavior. It is not very useful, and very hard to leave alone. Drug abuse is much more than the use of illegal and disapproved by some members of society. Sometimes we cross divides our lives that are visible only in retrospect. To be unaware at the time, and an action taken or a parting is to mark the end of one phase and the opening of another. If a demand for a drug exists, it will be supplied. The demand for cocaine in this country is high, and black-market traffic in it will grow. There is no chance to curtailing the use of cocaine by trying to cut off the flow of it or by punishing users and sellers. As matter fact, there are no differences between drugs and poisons except in dosage. All drugs in high enough doses are poisons, and many poisons at low enough does cause interesting and useful drug effects. I was thinking to call Sandra. I picked up the phone. I was whispering to myself, I’m going have to tell her. I just can’t help myself. I’ll suffer consequences. I’m to a point, I don’t care. What if she wouldn’t believe me if I told her about all these months where I was kept? I closed my lids and fell on the sofa. My heart was booming in my ears as I was dialing the number. Certainly I was excited enough though. After three rings, then I heard a woman’s voice said in softly and gently, “Hello”. I just cupped my hand over the mouth of receiver, but softly, not as if I was suffocating it or angry or anything like that. I was freshen my voice and got rid of the cough, I did get my voice back, and then I cupped off my hand over the mouth of receiver and with a excited voice I said; “Hi. Mom, I missed you. I wish you forgive me that what I did. The person on the other side was curious who I want to talk to”? I was kind of shocked to hear another women’s voice, then I said; I just wanted to talk to Sandra. “Who”? “Sandra, Sandra Bronson”. “So, who’s this”? “This is Jennifer, her step daughter”. “Well Jennifer, haven’t you read the papers recently”? Why I should read them? Is it something to do with Sandra? What’s going on? Something happened to her”? Well, as short as I could say; they’ve been murdered a couple of months ago. They’re still investigating if there was a serial killer or……”Some sort of alarm must have crept into my eyes, darkened them. I hardly listened to hear last words. Something terrible about their death! She would say and repeat it one more time. Though, she shouldn’t the mere fact of repeating anything too emphatically was already a sign of weakness, a sign of confusion. None of us said anything for a minute. I broke into loud sobs. They echoed off the walls. I collapsed onto the couch, doubled over, letting the crying take over my body. She hung up without any reflection. My step-mother died today. I always knew that someday I’d see those five words written down. I wouldn’t expect until now that she was murdered. Now, now yesterday…now today…now tomorrow! I never wanted to be now. Now is always too soon isn’t it? How much I like to see her again and tell her; “I love you mom”. I can hear the smile in her voice when she is saying; “I love you too Jennifer”. It hurts a lot…but I think it would have hurt a lot more if I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell her how very much she meant to me. It feels somehow unreal. I want to curl up into a ball and not think about it, let sleep claim me and allow me to forget for just a little while. But I’m happy that I have some precious memories that will linger for a long time. I know someday they’ll flash through my mind’s eyes and I will smile again. I decided to go to the local police chief to do some preliminary research about my mother. As I was talking to them, I could believe things are true and things that aren’t true and I could believe things where nobody knows if they are true or not! I can believe in Santa Claus and Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Merlin Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world runs by secret banking cartel and is visited by Aliens by regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crook and I still believe that they are better than alternative. But I couldn’t believe any of the words they said. They think life is kind of a cruel joke and a game! Now how can I support myself from this depression? I may fervently believe that nobody can help me and my life is too pointless. I believe the depression and the person suffering with depression are not the same thing. We got to separate them when they express pessimism, anger, frustration, or sadness, it is the illness talking not the person. If we separate the two we will find it easier to cope emotionally. It will help them to be a more effective caregiver. Time to change many things, to discards others, and try and try again until I will be satisfied! I should to elaborate the work in its breadth, its narrowness, its height, its depth. What is the imagination? We treat it like a thing, or perhaps a switch in our brains that turns on the idea engine. Whatever it is, it is certainly useful, which is a shame because most people keep their firmly switched off, with a big red “do not touch” sign on it. We dream, we plan, work and hopes and expectations for ourselves and our loved ones. Life begins to shapes and seems to flow along, even predictably at times.
Ballerina Page 19
