Dear Sweet Jane...Medication

The Eve of 3/19 - Medication

Dear Sweet Jane -

I’m sipping on a glass of wine and thinking of you. You know, the more I ponder it, you were just like me. You hid behind the most contagious laugh I have ever known, you would drink to get drunk, you were dreadfully moody, had a terrible self-image when everyone saw you as beautiful and full of life, you were addicted to drugs and the wrong guys, you were deeply affected by film, and books, and sadness, and you hurt for everyone, but hid that inside an angry, joking facade. Perhaps this was known between us; we had a quiet understanding. I could just look at your posture from across a room, and I knew what you were feeling. Did you feel that way, too?

I remember sitting down on the ledge of the bathtub with you in that apartment you lived in that was so inexpensive because it was next to the firehouse, and the alarm would scream into your window at 5:00am without fail. The two of us had been up for something like 22 hours, partying. We wanted to be eye level with the bathroom counter, so we could see if there was any trace of cocaine left, even if it was mixed with tile cleaner, toothpaste, or cigarette ashes. Anything.

We scraped up a line to share, and although we laughed, I think that we had a mutual understanding of that moment being the most pathetic that either of us had ever lived. I know that when I finally ventured home, suffering from a car crash in my brain, I vowed never to touch the stuff again, and I didn’t ...
I hope you’re doing fine.

Love, Ana