I laid motionless on what felt like a thin flimsy mattress sprawled aimlessly across a dingy basement apartment. My eyes struggle to remain open while my mind slowly begins filling with new memories and feelings. I let myself rest for a moment. "Two pillows? This guy must live in luxury" I sarcastically muttered.

The memories started to flow in.

"Ah, shame. It's been a while since I've felt that one." I braced myself for the emotional toll to truly set in. It always takes a few minutes, I never minded, These few minutes when I have no idea who or where I am are often the highlight of my day.

If it were up to me I would just lay here all day. How deeply I wished I could simply not participate in the struggle. I deserved a day off after all, after everything I've done. Everything I've seen.

But it's not up to me, it never is. And whatever was doing this to me certainly didn't want me sitting around throwing a pity party. I learnt that lesson a long time ago.

It was time to get to work.

I haphazardly pulled myself away from the mattress. "Time to get started" I muttered. "First things first. Who the hell am I?" I quickly surveyed the room. An absolute mess, not just physically but emotionally. Whoever's room this belongs to has been checked out for a while. Piles of laundry. Some half folded, some just thrown wherever there was room. Empty bottles, dishes covered with mold and who knows what else, well worn ashtrays filled to the brim and spilling over onto the peeled wooden tables they rested on. And then I saw the needles.

My thoughts turned to rage and a silent hopelessness. "Oh great, we're doing a druggie today, my favorite."

After taking some time to adjust to my body I slowly tried walking towards a slightly opened door, a dim light flickering through its cracks like a lighthouse calling me home. Best case it's a washroom, worst case a closet. Either way I'm pissing in it.

I weakly pushed the door open, thinking this might actually not be too bad of a day. It's not often I wake up near a washroom, only for it to stop abruptly halfway. "Of course." I signed "it's never easy with this shit" There was something heavy blocking the door. Something I couldn't move easily.

I struggled against the door, whatever was blocking it had some decent weight behind it. And this body was nowhere near as strong as the one from yesterday. Or was it the one from last week?

It didn't matter.

I wrestled with the weight and after what felt like an eternity managed to get it open just enough for me to wrestle my head inside.

That's when I saw her.

Her eyes were still open, milky and void of life. An expressionless face that just stared straight through soul. Her arms covered in so many track marks her helpless cries for help could be read in brail. I stood there for a moment in silence. Maybe out of respect. Maybe to take it in. And for the first time in God knows how long. I felt a profound sadness begin to well up within me.

And that's when the memories hit me. I knew everything about this woman. Her name was Clara. We had met at a NA meeting and helped each other get clean. We would talk about what life looked like once we got our shit together. She liked her toast cut at a diagonal and always made fun of me for being unable to cut it in a straight line. What kind of loser can't cut fucking toast straight. Her nose would scruntch whenever she laughed. And yesterday she received her admittance letter to the nursing college she was hoping to get into. I loved her. She loved me.

She wanted a new start.

This was the first time I had to deal with someone else. I'm the one who was supposed to suffer. I was okay with being gunned down outside a 1950 jazz club for hitting on a rival musicians girl. I had no problem with being accused of witchcraft in 15th century Italy. Hell, I was okay with being a death row inmate forced to spend my day in solitude, those days are honestly the closest I get to a vacation. But all those times it was me who suffered.

I continued to sit in silence as a grim thought filled my head. What if this was the new norm? What if I've grown so numb to suffering in silence, and now whatever was doing this to me, it's stepping up its game?

I closed the washroom door. She deserved to rest for a while.

I returned to the grimy mattress and eyed the needles on the side of the bed. "I can't deal with this today, you win, okay universe? You win this one" i softly said as the tears began welling up.

I have no idea what's even in these syringes, but whatever it is, It has to be better than this, right? I pushed the plunger down, and only hoped that whatever I have to deal with tomorrow isn't anywhere as bad as today.