dead of a drug overdose on our bed

The day my cellphone got stolen, I got arrested. There was a fight going on at the convenience store near my house where I was buying cigarettes and when the cops got there they ran everyone's name. I had a warrant, for a failure to appear in court on a paraphernalia charge. So, they cuffed me and brought me to county. I refused my first appearance twice, because I was simply too sick to get out of bed. Not that I was sleeping anyway, but whenever I stood up I started to get dizzy and chilled and pukey. Detoxing in jail was a son-of-a-bitch! I literally shit my pants twice. You can imagine all the shit-talking there! I didn't really care though, I was too sick to give a flying rat's ass what some hoes in jail had to say about me. As long as no one was beating my ass (or touching me in any way) they can shit-talk till Jesus comes back. Day 3 I finally went to my first appearance and was given time served.

So I got out today and Greg came and picked me up. I was still sick and he lent me the money to get straight and we had an agreement on how I was to repay the favor. I fulfilled my part of the bargain, and then he started being an asshole so we started fighting and he stormed out, telling me never to call him again. But he took my house key. Joe was all fucked up when I left to go make some money, and since he had repayed Greg for me I went to get the money to pay him back. When I got home, I banged on the door for 5 full minutes and no one answered. I didn't have my key, so I got the key from my landlord and let myself in. That was when I noticed the peculiar way that Joe was lying on the bed, with his head and one arm dangling off. His eyes were open too, but he wasn't breathing.

His heart wasn't beating either.

I had found my roommate and VERY close friend, dead of a drug overdose on our bed.

Joe is dead.

I raced back over to the landlord's office, SCREAMING at him that something is wrong with Joe, call 911, I think he's dead. The paramedics and police came, but nothing could be done. They think he od'd on his psych meds and he did a little heroin too but he's never shot up before. When I walked into that room, finding him dead was the last thing I expected. I was in shock, screaming and babbling and dripping sweat and crying my eyes out. I managed to fill out a police statement, just writing when I left and when I came back and found him and what I did. They asked if I cleaned out the room. Hell, all I did was put his weed away! There was no dope in that room.

I can't believe he's really gone. No more tiny little joints and a pile of roaches laying on the bed. No more waking up to the Weather Channel (his favorite). No more laughing about stupid shit in bed together. No more yelling at him for answering my phone (which was a non-issue anyways, since my phone is still stolen). No more getting woken up because he's lonely and wants to spend time with me. No more him lending me money to buy dope so I didn't have to go out, so I could hang with him in the room instead. No more of his mom's homemade chili, which she made special for the two of us who have acid reflux and can't really handle normal chili. Well, he had acid reflux. I'm having a really hard time believing that Joe is DEAD, gone forever. I couldn't look when the coroner and the cops brought him out of the room, I think if I had watched that I would have started screaming and been unable to stop. My mom came and picked me up. While they were bringing him out I was hugging her with my eyes shut, but I heard the clunk of the wheels and I passed out, spilling my bottle of water and cutting my knees. My mom said she would have held me up if she could, but I was just too heavy. I was weak, from not eating since Wednesday (I was too sick to eat ANYTHING, especially county chow) and in shock. The paramedics almost had too give me a shot. They were like, "are you the one who found him dead?" Yes, yes I was. The worst part about it was his eyes. They were open and staring right at me. I haven't seen a dead body in a while, and not experienced the death of a close friend since my girl Hana overdosed on an IV heroin/coke combo in high school. I didn't find her though, her sister told me about it. Joe... well, those dead, open, overdosed eyes are going to haunt my dreams tonight.

I just wanted him to be okay, and when the paramedics told me he was gone and that there was nothing they could do or that I could have done, and that I did the right thing by calling 911 the second I got home...

...that's when I went into shock. I was screaming, "MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! JOE IS DEAD! GOD, I LOVED THAT GUY SO MUCH! HE WAS ONLY 36! HE'S DEAD! MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD!"

God, if that doesn't hurt. My heart is aching. I'm waiting on dope to ease the pain right now, my guy is delivering out here to Wellington at 4 in the morning because I told him I needed him and told him what had happened to Joe. My dealer is always good about delivering no matter where I'm at. He loves my money and I love his shit! But he's a nice guy too, real sympathetic about the whole Joe thing. I was actually crying on the phone to him! Now that's unheard of, me spilling my guts to the damn dopeman.

I miss Joe... god damn I really do.

SAD
When I'm sad, the whole world goes away
When I'm sad, nothing can make it okay
When I'm sad, nothing sounds like fun
When I'm sad, I feel like the only one
When I'm sad, I can't even turn a trick
I get so sad I feel physically sick
When I'm sad, I don't have a single friend
I'd give anything just to make the sadness end
When I'm sad, nothing can ever fill that hole
It's like depression of my motherfucking soul
When I'm sad, everything just makes me cry
When I'm sad, I just want to curl up and die
When I'm sad, I'm on the way to going insane
When I'm sad, all I can feel i soul-destroying pain
When I'm sad, I stick a needle in the perfect place
Because that's all I have left that puts a smile on my face