Break from reality; Raw

Break From Reality By: Morgan M. Paul

Ketamine; a wiff of the future

I was eight-teen, high school was over and my first love and I had just recently broken up. I think it was the summer of 2009, when I think back I assume it was summer because my family had a fire in the back yard the night it all started.

I have a friend who I grew up with named Red, he is a shorter guy with red hair who had a strange impulse to physically attack his friends every once in a while. But none the less he is a solid kid, a guy I could trust in a sticky situation. Anyway at this point in my life Red had been living on his own for a short while with his girlfriend Melissa, he had been experimenting with a narcotic called ketamine, which now I believe is what veterinarians use to put cats to sleep. I was over one night while they were doing this drug, I had already been drinking by this time and was curious of the effects this drug would have on me, when offered a “bump” I shortly realized I needed to go home because, I was now losing control. Little did I know that Alcohol and ketamine were both depressants and make a deadly combination, seasoned vets of the drug world are wise to not mix them.

Once I had made it to my parents’ house after stumbling down back alleys in attempt to avoid a run in with the police. I discovered my family in the back yard in front of the fire, I sat down beside everyone and quickly decided I didn’t want to become a part of the conversation because, my father had been drinking and was badgering my mother with insults. At that point in my life I had become a custom to his drunken lectures and put downs and was not in the mood to hear it that night.

So as I made my way back into the house my dad said something that I can’t remember now that I think of it, but my reply was a big “fuck you ass hole”. To this day, that was probably the most gratifying moment of my life; I stuck it to the man. Now I was at the top of the steps leading to the back entrance of our house and he had made it to the bottom to come after me. I then said “come up these stairs and I’ll kick you down them” and sure enough he came up the stairs. For some reason I didn’t kick him down them, I only managed to slap the drink out of his hand. Needless to say the fight didn’t go well for me, once I had a chance to get free I ran to my bedroom and grabbed a glass bottle and started screaming at him in what sounded like an angry Jamaican. My dad was now standing in the door way to my bedroom and asked “what are you saying?”, and the only thing I could muster up to say in response was “I FUCKING HATE YOU”.

My Mom convinced him to walk away and once I had an opportunity to leave, I ran to the front door, strapped on my work boots and left.

From then on the night turned into a blur, I remember going to my neighbor’s house right after the conflict, they were a group of roommates living in the basement of an old yellow house. When I told them what had happened they convinced me to come to the club with them, so I did and when we got the entrance of the club I was not let in and they all abandoned me in a time of crisis, again I found myself in front of another club but this time the bouncers let me in. I had all of sixty bucks in my pocket and was only able to buy two drinks. I danced like an idiot, people even stopped to watch the stupidity. I eventually got over whelmed with the experience and left through the back door of the club.

I made it to a cross street in the downtown core and I was able to wave down a taxi; the driver asked me where I was going, I said “Huntington�. Then he asked me if I had money, I showed him the remaining forty dollars in my pocket.

And off we went.

Adult hood The day after the conflict with my dad I decided I was not going to live with my family anymore. I asked my mom do deliver my shoes, my skateboard, change of clothes and the money my dad owed me for the work I had done with him, as well as an envelope with resumes in it to my friend’s mothers place. Within a few days I got myself a job working at west49 in sun ridge mall; it was the first job I had gotten on my own.

Shortly after, Red asked me if I could look after his cats while him and his girlfriend went camping, they left me the key to their house for the weekend and entrusted me with their home. That weekend a co-worker of mine asked me if I would like to have some drinks and go to the fire work festival in a neighborhood called Forrest lawn which was not the nicest of “hoods”, we met up after work and had a few drinks at the house I was sitting.

After a few beers we decided it was time to go see the works; however that was far from what we did.

I can’t remember his name, but he and I took the number one bus route up the road, but we got off sooner then we should have, which was our biggest mistake. He wanted to get a pack of smokes and on the rest of the way buy more alcohol, so I promptly navigated him to the location of the nearest liquor store. At the cold beer and wine store we ran into a group of young girls trying to get someone to buy booze for them. Being that they were quite attractive I agreed and asked for their money. I remember they wanted a 2.6 of Captain Morgan’s, once I purchased the alcohol me and my buddy asked if we could

drink with them. They thought it was ok seeing as one of the girls recognized me from a party I was at not too long ago.

We all walked together to a park inside a trailer yard and from there started drinking the Captain Morgan’s. I remember there being a helicopter flying by and everyone being startled from this, in my drunken effort to appear cool and collected I asked them sarcastically how old they were and told them it was not a big deal.

After a while, we were all sitting at the picnic table in the park smoking a marijuana cigarette or “joint” if you will. By the time it made it around the circle and the joint was in my hand I was already incredibly drunk, but being the person I am I still took a rip.

Without a doubt, this was the second really bad choice of the night. Not long after my toke from the marijuana smoke I was falling asleep from being far too intoxicated, I took note of this and made the decision to leave. I stumbled away and made it about four yards before I fell on my face, while lying face down in the grass I heard one of the girls yell at me and say “ How old are you?” It was a fare come back but undeserved seeing as I was the one that bought their booze. A few minutes pasted before I gathered the mental and physical strength to get up and continue walking back to Red’s house.

At some point in my travels I ran into a cholo who was also inebriated, but had been walking in the wrong direction much like myself. The Mexican kid realized he was lost and needed to reconnect with his friends so I said I would walk down the main road with him until they reunited. When his friends showed up in a small sports car they assumed I was causing trouble with my new found friend and wanted to fight me. My new Mexican

hommie reassured them that I was a good guy, got in the vehicle and we parted ways.

Again on my long walk to Red’s house I was confronted by another stranger, but this one had a rather different objective.

This person was in front of a car dealership sitting in a black Honda; he had blond hair and was wearing glasses. When he called me over he asked if I wanted to make some money and In my curiosity I walked over and asked what he wanted me to do.

He asked me if I have ever done pornography and if I want to do some, I found this quite funny because, I thought he wanted me to do something that involved selling drugs or violence. He exclaimed that he was a legitimate photographer and continued to ask me for some photos, I ended up telling him that I would take a few pictures if he drove me to my neighborhood. Once I got in the car I asked him if he was going to kill me and if he had any coliform, he said no and I went along with his masquerade. I directed him to an industrial area of my neighborhood and told him this was a great spot for taking pictures.

We walked to an area with a brick wall and he started taking photos of me with my clothes on. He then asked me to take my shirt off and I agreed out of being drunk and thinking that It was the least I could do for him since he drove me close to home, after a few shots he then told me to remove my pants. And then that’s where the agreement stopped, I told him if he said another word I would “destroy him”. I grabbed my shirt and began to walk away, as I walked off I seen the flash of his camera go off in the dark behind me. I then turned around in anger and started walking toward him with my left fist raised in the air as though I was going to hit him with it, I yelled “did I say take another picture?!” . once I was close enough to strike, I hit him with my right hand and knocked him to the ground, he said something like “ you hit my face!”. Without taking a breath to collect

myself I screamed at the top of my lungs and said “that’s what you get for being a perv!” And then ran as fast as I could, taking all the side streets and alley ways I knew back to Red’s house. I finally made it to the house and climbed through the front window and made every effort to calm down and fall asleep.

The next day at work I discovered the co-worker I abandoned at the park was severely assaulted and was in the hospital in need of reconstructive surgery, I felt horrible and the stress began to build.

First Home As soon as I got my first paycheck I asked my friends Red and Melissa if I could room with them, and they said yes.

It was the first time I was free from my parent’s restrictions and influence, the only thing I had to do was feed my self, pay four hundred dollars a month for my room, and keep the bathroom and kitchen relatively clean.

It was awesome, now I had been smoking weed for a few years but at that point I had never done anything other than smoke weed and eat magic mushrooms a few times. I don’t want to say my friends were the cause of my experimental drug use, but I don’t think I would have done them if not for the accessibility of them which my friend so graciously allowed.

There were other influences in my life that made me consider doing harsher drugs such as the skateboard videos we watched were they talked about the joys of skateboarding on acid.

The first time I had done ecstasy was when I was living on my own with my new roommates; It was the first time I felt relief from the harsh emotional connection I had to failure and the disappointment of my father, I felt free from the pressures placed before me in terms of success and prominence. When I did the drug I became an extra-terrestrial being with a view on a different state of consciousness, ecstasy; the best thing that ever happened to me, but even that did not last long.

Soon after I grew upset with the dawning reality that I was on my own and the one person I loved so much, hated me. Jessica, my first love and the first beautiful thing I destroyed. She was a few years younger than me and yet I found her to be the most fascinating and beautiful girl I had ever met. She used her

maturity and good looks to manipulate men around her, including me. She was argumentative, opinionated and smart.

We dated for seven months which was longest I had ever been with anyone to this day; we broke up because an unexpected pregnancy was too much for either one of us to handle. Being that I’m a male, I don’t have a lot of say in what she decided to do with the child. In my not being sure what to do, I told Jessica that regardless of what she chose to do I would stand by her decision. That decision was to have an abortion, and because she blamed me for her getting pregnant she broke up with me. I hate the fact that she did this, but what can I say, we were both young and of course; life goes on.

The sadness grew and the drug use became more frequent, the madness was starting to kick in. I knew that the horrible feeling I had was because at one point in my life I was really happy, I once moved about the world with a sense of childlike wonder and now I was only surrounded by the responsibilities of an adult and the pain of a lost love.

For some reason I felt content with the emotions I was feeling, a lot of that I’m sure can be chalked up to the euphoria I was experiencing whilst high on ecstasy or MDMA. If I were to give an example of what it was like, I’d have to say it felt like rain on a sunny day.

The Fear Red and Melissa were planning on painting their home while I had been staying there, I made an offer to pay for the paint and do the work and in return I asked for a free month of rent. They agreed and decided we would paint on the following weekend.

The day came where I was ready to paint the living room, and I took it upon myself to move all the furniture. I assumed it would be ok seeing as it was the weekend and we already had purchased the paint.

As it was the weekend and this was the time we usually tripped out on psychedelics, I asked my dear friend Red if he could make a call for some MDMA and Acid. He obliged and asked if I could buy Melissa a hit of “M” as well, I was more than happy to do so and gave him the money.

An hour later the drugs had been delivered and I had already gotten all the walls primed with white paint. But seeing as this would be my first time on “the Cid” it would be my last time painting the living room.

I remember taking my first tab of acid and being exited, a half hour later I was bummed out because it had yet to kick in and I thought I had been ripped off. This was of course not true, roughly forty five minutes went by and it was starting to take hold. In the beginning of the trip I felt what some call a head high, where you feel different but you’re not hallucinating. I laughed a little and felt happy and assumed the right of a benevolent being, I was at piece with the few friends I had around me and we spoke about things we had learnt in our young lives and our perspectives.

Within twenty minutes of feeling good from the first tab of acid I took, I decided I would take the voyage I was on to another level. I dropped my second and last sheet of “Cid” and began to wait for the next wave of euphoria to take over.

My head began to swell from my body fighting the chemicals I had just ingested; the room started taking form in a vortex of different colours and geometric shapes. The hilarity of our friend Trev was almost unbearable, he was aware that a few of us were high on acid and started saying things to help warp our minds with bizarre thoughts. I remember saying to him in laugher “Trev, you are the new comedian in my life”. He found this strange but accepted my attempt to tell him that he was funny.

Thoughts came with intense waves of emotions, there was a physical sensation and feeling of sickness attached the acknowledgment of the inevitability of my death. I began questioning my purpose as a human being and why we experienced consciousness in a physical from. I was completely disconnected from reality, my body felt like a stream conscious energy projecting thoughts and receiving others.

We all decided we would go to the playground down the street to get some fresh air, while everyone was waiting outside for me I got lost in the house trying to find my shoes but not remembering what shoes were. When I found them fifteen minutes later sitting at the front door I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with them, I had forgotten the purpose shoes had.

At the park we were all enjoying beers and somehow we were ambushed by the police. When I saw the blue and red lights I did not realize they were from the pig’s van.

I was terrified, it was my first time high on acid and we were being questioned by the cops. Luckily we were accompanied by

our good friend Trev who was the sober voice of reason. He convinced the police that we were not causing trouble and there was no need to be alarmed. I remember having one of the cops shine a light in my eyes and I made every attempted to appear normal, the cop told me to put down my beer or else I would be charged with drinking in public. The last thing I wanted to happen was to be in the drunk tank high on acid. I stood still and tried to maintain as cool as possible. The cops told us to go home and we all survived the worst trip imaginable.

The next morning I woke up and realized I had to go to work, I was frazzled and had not yet come down from the drug I consumed the night before. There was a trio of cold sores growing on my lips, severe paranoia and panic made up the rest of my day. It was my first taste of psychosis and I was never the same.

A change of scene

Once I realized that I had been using drugs too often and the sickness of my broken heart became too unbearable. I ventured over to my close friends house; Joe. He also had been living with his girlfriend in Renfrew and was struggling with a dishonest relationship. I came to him crying, telling him about the sickness that had grown inside me, I exclaimed that I needed to get away from the drugs and be close to someone who understood who I was as a person.

After hearing what I had to say, Joe mentioned he needed a roommate and was breaking up with his girlfriend who had been cheating on him in his own house. Without a second thought I instantly decided to move in as soon as I had the money to pay the remaining rent I owed to Red. A week later I arrived at Joe’s house with my bed and clothes, he was surprised with this and did not think I was serious about needing to be free from the suppressant i was under. However he was very accommodating and allowed me to stay in the spare bed room.

Joe and I first met after science class early on in the year in grade nine at Melissa Ervin Junior High. He too was a new student and was in need of new friends. The students were allowed to play cd’s on the stereo in the class room, the teacher let me play the mix I had which had a bunch of different songs on it.

One of the songs was No woman No Cry by Bob Marely, and I guess for Joe that was when he realized we should talk. Anyway, after class Joe approached me and asked if I smoked weed, I was immediately startled by this question and told him to hush down.

I whispered to him and said “yes I do” he then asked if I wanted to smoke some with him some time and I said quietly “yea but not now”. I was short with him because the teacher was close by and I did not want her to over-hear us talking about illegal drugs, I had already been in trouble with pot at my last school and was the reason why I was transferred to Melissa Ervin.

Zoomer’s, Months into years 8 hours at a time When I moved into Joes I was seeing one of the girls at my work named Bailey, She was what the kids called “scene” which to me just looked like a pin up girl from Ed hardy’s tattoo flash. Anyway we did mushrooms after the first couple nights of seeing each other. This later became a frequent journey in my stay with Joe, Bailey and her friends divided up the quarter ounce of mushrooms they had between the three of them. They left me the remaining mushrooms and it was more than satisfactory.

Within twenty minutes of our trip I was overloading with hallucinations. The collective group of tweakers I was with started to turn into mystical nymphs, I decided to take a shower since it had become my ritual while high on drugs.

This was a bad idea, the hot water allowed my pours to ooze the toxins in my body which made for more elaborate hallucinations.

At one point I found myself melting into a puddle of water flowing through the shower drain. When I came to, I got out of the shower and began drying myself off. It’s common to look at yourself in the mirror while seeing thing’s created by your subconscious, this lead to another break in my reality I started Seeing Eye balls growing all over my body. At one point I was seeing my back facing the mirror but still viewing myself as thought I was facing it, seeing as I had eyes everywhere this did not come as a surprise.

A few days later Joe was coincidentally selling mushrooms by the half pound, I became the tester for his “zoomers”. The trips I had were remarkable, every eight hours high felt like a few days at a time. Within a few weeks I became more functional on mushrooms then I was sober.

The drugs inspired me to do comedy, after a week of writing material I went on stage and did great. After a few more sets I soon realized that I wasn’t funny when I did drugs, I just thought I was funny because I was on drugs.

Bailey had not yet had sex with me and we had been dating for a month, when she was finally ready to give me the explanation, I was surprised to find out that she had HPV and wasn’t going to spread her warts.

I was upset at first but then was really happy that I had dodged another bullet, that day I broke up with her, it was the last time we spoke. My choice to dump her was not because of her virus, but because of her not telling me sooner. I feel bad to this day, she may have been the last girl to truly understand the wild man inside me.

Tattoo’s leave Stains After I was able to wean myself off of the fungus and was in need of a new job since I had been fired from west 49. My dad got me a job on a construction site with him in a building downtown, my first check I used to cover up the tattoo I got when I was 17 in the basement of my friend’s house.

That’s when I met Sage, she was 27 and I was 19. Our first impression was not good but after a few sessions of putting ink in my skin she warmed up to me. After one session she asked if she could take a photo of my freckles as reference for a series of paintings she was doing. I took that as my opening and called her a few days after to “just hang out”. She invited me to her house and I had Joe’s uncle drive me on his motor cycle there. I anticipated being taken advantage of by the older woman but was later disappointed she was not in the mood that night.

A few days later I was again invited to her house, when I saw her I told her Joes uncle was upset that he drove me to her house and I did not have sex with her. She then contemplated it after my honesty and being forward.

That night she offered me a pill that she said was synthetic heroin, which now I know is oxycodone, while in her art studio I could tell the capsule she took had kicked in. That’s when I made my move and offered to give her a massage.

The massage soon turned into sex, she screamed louder than any girl I had been with which was so arousing that I came within minutes. I did my best to stay erect and continue making her scream, when I thought I was going to ejaculate again I pulled out and cummed all over her. But to both our surprise I was not cumming, when she screamed “Morgan that does not turn me on” I realized I had been urinating on her.

I’m sure it goes without saying that after that night she told me we should keep our relationship professional and stray from golden showers.

Lira I went to a pet store and bought a small parrot I had my eye on, she was an Indian ring neck who was neglected in her last home. She was grey and with her red hooked beak, looked like an angry pigeon. I named her after the planet; our species originally came from, according to some theories. I’ve always been an animal lover but I felt a connection with this bird because she was my first commitment as an adult. I viewed her as a protector of evil spirits and thought she was warding them off with the few noises she made.

Cocaine had slowly made its way into our home; once we were able to connect with a good dealer the true addiction took place.

Since I was studying some of the writing of an occultist writer, I was under the impression that I could achieve a higher state of understanding with the drug and used it more frequently.

Joe was seeing a girl I knew from high school who happened to look after my younger sister in an “after school program”. She was a stupid and careless girl, which I now know had problems controlling her bladder in the middle of the night.

The first time I wanted a drug for purposes other than social enhancement was when I made my first purchase of “blow”. This helped jump start the time it took to end up in a hospital.

One day I arrived at home with Joe after a day of working together and found feathers around the house, I instantly knew a tragedy took place in my time away. I found my sweet Lira under my bed, dead and chewed up.

At first I thought it was the work of Joe’s new puppy Layla, which is still a possibility. But once we found out that Joe’s girlfriend’s dog had been left at our house, we knew it was him

trying to proclaim dominance amongst the house hold by mutilating my bird.

This was not the first time I had cried since living on my own, I was crushed. My guardian was dead and I would once again be molested by the demons that haunt my slumber.

Love stop It was right before Christmas time when we met another older woman who came over to buy some pot; her name was Nancy and was the owner of an adult toy store.

Joe and I had been sniffing cocaine the night she came over and offered her some. She had some and asked if we knew where to get anything else, we said we had MDMA. She was immediately interested and asked if we would do some with her. Since Joe was only a dealer and did not do half the drugs we sold, I said I would be her drug buddy for the night.

She asked if the both of us would like to come to her shop, seeing as we had nothing else to do that night we agreed and came with her.

We arrived to her store and were told to quickly make our way to the back room where we would get high and have a few drinks.

While Joe and I were waiting in her office we had already made a quick realization that one of us was going to have sex with her.

Soon enough we were not surprised to find out that our assumption was correct, Nancy came in the back room wearing a burlesque outfit holding a bottle of gin and orange juice. I can speak for both of us when I say, I was excited. Joe and I always talked about one day doing something called an “Eiffel tower� and that dream was about to come true.

The drugs Nancy and I took had kicked in shortly after taking them, she sat in between Joe and I and rested her head on my lap, Joe made the first move and began to pleasure her with his figures. She then asked if she could perform oral sex on me after reaching in my pants and being mentally satisfied with my endowment.

I did not question anything that went on after that, what was a harmless invitation to be accompanied on a drug trip turned into a very pornographic adventure. For those of you who don’t know what the Eiffel tower is, it is when a girl is giving oral sex to man in front of her and receiving penetration from the rear whilst having the two men “high five over her back” which resembles the Eiffel tower or a skewered pig.

This could have been filmed as either a porno or a comedic bromance. The sound of our high five was so loud that I couldn’t resist laughing, within a few minutes of being tossed around between the two of us she had enough and told Joe that she only wanted to have sex with me. Even though that’s what happened Joe took it as an opportunity to watch while I finished up.

Once everything was over she sent Joe home and asked me to stay behind so when ready we could continue having sex.

Nancy and I became sexual partners until my hospitalization which was not long after.

Confusion and Hysteria

It all began with a void in memory and thought, my assumption is that because there were moments where I stopped thinking my subconscious made efforts to fill the voids with thoughts and false memories.

For example; I started to forget what I was saying and recalling me saying something different. This was because my false memory is attached to hearing auditory hallucinations, so in the beginning after I said something the last thing I would remember hearing was the “voices” over lapping my actual voice, Which is why I didn’t catch it sooner because it was so subtle.

Once this occurrence became more frequent I started asking my friends in a panic after every sentence “what did I just say?” But my roommate believed I was kidding with him and it was a new joke of mine. This was a problem because it caused me to believe the people I surrounded myself with were lying to me about not hearing the bizarre things I was involuntarily saying.

In an attempt to save myself from the presumably uncontrollable words coming from my mouth I turned to the occultist literature Joe had on his shelves. I thought I would use the methods of strengthening the mind and spirit to regain power over my mouth which had a mind of its own. After a few weeks of studying Joe’s books, I started writing written word magic and small incantations to help fend off the demon I thought was in control of me. I tried summoning demi gods that matched my numerological alignment and consecrating them into my protective circle.

I tried other things to prevent involuntarily talking; I put water in my mouth and held it for as long as I could. I realized that I wasn’t moving my mouth when I heard the voice and yet I still felt the sensation of talking. This was very confusing; I tried to

come up with as many explanations for what I was experiencing but only came up with the most outrageous ideas.

Eventually I came to my parents’ house late one night crying because the stress of it all was too much. My grandparents gave me their old van for my birthday; it was at my parents’ house because I did not have a licence. I asked them if I could take my van because I wanted to disappear into the mountains where I could get away from the sounds.

They didn’t understand what I meant and I didn’t completely explain that I wanted to go to the mountains because there is no reception to receive sub-atomic frequency’s from the HARPP device in Alaska that was altering my brain patterns. I knew if I told them this they would definitely consider me to be crazy.

The next day I woke up to my parents knocking on my door, they came to take me to the hospital. If it wasn’t for me going to my parents I don’t know how long I would have gone without an intervention.

Mental Captivity My mom and dad took me to the hospital where I described what I was going through to the nurse at the triage, the lady asked me if I was contemplating suicide and in my effort to be treated sooner I told her yes.

I was put into a small room to wait for a doctor, I was stripped of my clothing and had photographs taken by the security guard of my tattoos, a small bed and a camera was in the room. There was scratch marks on the walls and carvings of satanic symbols all over the place, the floor tiles looked like they had been picked at by some of the rooms previous occupants.

My room was guarded by two security officers at all times, and through the window in the door I could see another room with monitors displaying the footage from the other rooms. When I was told I would be held there for a while I shaped myself into a meditational pose and waited for several hours.

I arrived in the morning and was not offered food until all the patients of the hospital were served dinner.

I did not eat the food because I thought the nurses had put sedatives in my hospital slop, I drank the tea I was given and the salted crackers that were pre-packaged.

I was not seen by a doctor the day I had been admitted, and I remained awake until I was. I was awake for thirty-six hours before seen by a doctor and had nurses try to force me to bed while in my half-awake delirium. I was offered all sorts of medication to keep me calm and to completely sedate me.

When the doctor finally came and gave me an assessment, I failed miserably. I was held for another day and awaited to be

admitted into a psychiatric facility; however I did not know this.

When finally transferred to another hospital to be put in intensive psychiatric care I sat in the lobby of what they called Unit 22.

There was an elderly woman singing nursery rhymes on the couch next to me, I saw a distressed man pacing back and forth waving his arms around like he was having an argument with himself. I then said to myself “good job Morgan, you’re in the fucking looney bin”.

After being shown around the unit, I found myself crying in the activity room which had books and a bunch of used up children’s drawing pads. I looked for anything I could use as a weapon because I realized I was now being held in captivity; it was a prison of the mind.

My parents arrived the next day to bring me food, the nurses made note that I wasn’t eating or drinking the water. I was certain that the food had sedatives in it and I did not want to be corrected because I was now seeing certain people for what they really were.

I had a unique ability to see through the fake people skin that elitist beings from the Draco galaxy were wearing to observe and control the human race. We call these beings Draconian or Reptilians, they are a race of lizard people the human race has been fighting and hiding from for millions of years ever since the great galactic war.

I was able to read through the subliminal messages and sub text that was all around me, I started to see the esoteric symbols that had been in front of us this entire time and understood them from my occult studies.

I was left impaired from the constant flux of information being beamed into my mind, I was unable to think my own thoughts and construct sentences that were coherent.

I wasn’t human anymore, reality was permanently taken away from me and I would now have to make a decision to except psychiatric treatment or become a slave to fake world I was living in.

My Great escape Now that I think back this probably was not planned to well, but after a week of being the mental ward I sought out to escape and make my way home. I was clothed with only a few hospital gowns and was able to get my shoes back from the locker room; I thought that as long as I had foot wear I would make it 37 blocks in the snow back to my house without being noticed.

I stood by the main entrance of unit twenty-two and waited for a visitor to get buzzed in, and when I had my chance I politely held the door open and said “thanks”. As I calmly walked out of the unit, I was unsure of how to get out but I thought if I used my stealthy ninja skills I would evade the security guards and the nurses chasing me.

I came to a hallway with elevators and knew it would take too long to wait for the elevator to make it to the floor I was on, but I pressed the button anyway. As I waited I heard the chasing footsteps of the nurse’s coming to find me. I hid in the small space of the elevator door way and watched them run pass.

But as a nurse came walking back to give up he noticed me, and I also gave up and laughed “oh well!” As I was escorted back to the unit they told me I was going into an area called High Opp’s, all the walls are glass so the nurses can monitor you at all times.

The male nurse Drew grabbed my arm as I was already complying with their demands, and I turned with a burst of anger and told him “don’t, fucking touch me!”

Once I was put in “high opp’s” another nurse came in with a cup of medication that would “calm me down”. When she told me I should have some I replied with “I bet you’d like that wouldn’t

you”. She left and without telling me there was an ultimatum and she called the security guard’s to restrain me in order to have the drug injected by syringe.

When I saw the guards I immediately realized that there was going to be a conflict, I’ve never been one to comply to orders willingly and was not going to bow down to a few power thirsty “rental cops”.

Three male guards dressed in blue uniform walked toward me in the small hallway of “high Opp’s” and ordered me to lay down. I refused and put my hands in front of me with my palms open as though I was trying to negotiate with them. When they were close enough the two guards grabbed my arms and made efforts to twist them behind my back, but this was no easy task seeing as I knew how to counter this maneuver.

Within seconds of their failed attempts to restrain me, the guard to my left tried to strike me with his knee. Until that moment I did not feel any need to be violent for I did not feel threatened, everything after that was impulsive and did not require thought.

I stepped forward with my right foot and placed it behind the guard to my right and struck him with my elbow. He hit the floor immediately as expected, which gave me time to deal with the aggressor of the conflict. I did not attempt to strike him rather than just manipulate his movements it was an evenly matched tussle as I made no effort to harm him.

I managed to get behind the guard and tried to put him in a head lock, he knew well enough to counter this attack and flipped me over his shoulder. This is when the other two guards jumped on top of me.

At this point I was enraged, I exclaimed that they were inhumane and I was sick. I told them that they were not true humans and their job brought negativity into this world. They laughed and the guard holding my legs down rubbed my leg with his hand, and I called him a “fucking pervert” and that if he wanted to fuck a man I’d be more than to give him my dick.

I told the guards they weren’t doing a good job at holding me down and they must have taken that as a challenge to restrict my movements even more. The more violent guard contorted my arm in such a way that I felt a bone in my wrist break.

At this time I was high on the sedatives they injected into my rear, and as they brought me up to the bed to strap me in as punishment for my actions I asked if they meant to render my hand useless. One of the guards piped up and said, “We don’t like being touched” and I replied “neither do I, you fucking retard”.

Within a few minutes of being sedated and strapped to a bed I fell unconscious, before that, they told me that if I struggled they would tighten the straps.

The next day I was woken up by one of the nurses, it was Drew.

He told me that I they were going to x-ray my hand. Now just a few days prior at another hospital, a mental patient had his arm broken, they told me it was fine in order to prevent the news from finding out about the mistreated patients.

On my way to the x-ray room I was still so drugged up from the day before that the medication actually impaired my ability to walk properly. My entire upper body was hunched to my side at almost a forty five degree angle, my legs tried to compensate for this bizarre movement. I could not control my tongue and it was blocking my airways, I panicked and tried to tell Drew but he

reassured me it was just the medication and prompted me to keep moving to and from the unit despite my reaction to the drug.

The two nurses lack of compassion and understanding for the people they work with resulted in my physical disability up to six months after the affair.

The residents There is a common misconception that the mentally ill are dangerous or simply lunatics, the people I met in the unit were far from that. They were scared, angry, confused, distressed and lost.

There was a haunting aura that filled the unit, a negative vibe that overwhelmed everybody. It was a collective feeling of not belonging, a sense of guilt that consumed us all.

All the older patients kept to themselves for the most part, except one who had seriously lost his way, and from my speculation will never find it. Mort is an elderly man with a severe case of dementia and bipolar disorder with a hint of solipsism.

My fondest moments of my stay were in the morning when Mort would ask if I had seen the lovely weather. When I replied “yes” he would say “you’re welcome” as though he caused the sun to shine. Some times when Mort would get upset he would go on tangents about having the hospital surrounded by the military and he was so convinced of this that I almost believed him.

One other person made an impression on me while at the hospital, He was a young man but a bit older than I am and he was a consciousness activist.

Ford was admitted into the ward because he was arrested by the police for streaking, when asked why he did it, he said “god told me to do it” and they assumed he was insane. Ford had spent to many days and nights thinking about the growth of our race and its need to evolve into a higher social state of consciousness.

But with his learning of the corruption of our society, his brain overloaded much like mine and he began to hear the “words of god”.

To this day I would not argue that he heard the voice of god, I mean weren’t the Ten Commandments told to Moses by god himself. And what about Noah or Eli? .Yet Ford was exiled and sent to the same place I was for having a sense of hyper awareness. These days we don’t acknowledge the unexplainable with archetypal answers, we only assume a scientific reason for the unworldly experiences us few “crazy’s” have.

Ford was released from the unit early because he convinced the doctor he was really just a free thinker and just had an unusual perspective. Within a few days he was back in the unit for streaking.

Ford claimed there was an entire underground society of enlightened human beings and he was at a night club where they resided. While in the back room he initiated a boy into the freedom cult by making him strip down and expose his true human self. This was Fords reasoning for streaking, it wasn’t for shock value or publicity. Ford streaked because he wanted the world to see him as a free human being, a natural human.

Ford believed that his understanding of consciousness was so powerful that he wrote two pages about it and told the patients of the unit that it was the new age bible.

I was not surprised to meet someone with an interest for consciousness in the mental ward, but in fact I felt he lacked much knowledge on the topic, but he viewed me as an adept in the social and sci-fi laws of our society.

First week back After three months of being in the unit I was released and was able to go back to my home with Joe, he was relieved from my return but while I was away, two friends of ours had been freeloading in our home.

There was also someone who was spending lots of time at our house to get away from his wife, Taylor; he was a crack head and also a thief. He would bring expensive clothing he stole to Joe to trade for weed.

One day Taylor came over angry because, Joe told his wife that when Joe was away at work, Taylor would smoke crack in our home. He came over in attempt to prove a point and teach a lesson to Joe for spreading rumors about him and began digging through Joe’s closet to take back all the clothing he had given him. I had just gotten out of the hospital and had a broken wrist, I only tried to reason with him as he stole all of Joe’s clothes, and I told Taylor that he was making a huge mistake and that he would be back.

As soon as he left, I called Joe and told him what happened, after I hung up, Joe called Taylors wife and told her what he did.

When she seen the stock pile of clothing, she made Taylor call me and apologize for the stress he caused.

Joe called me back and told me when Taylor comes back, pretend everything is ok and give him a joint to smoke, when he did I went on with a masquerade.

I made everything appear fine, as he came back with his tale between his legs, apologetic for what he did. I sold him a joint and kept him occupied for a short while until Joe got home.

When Joe finally got home he came storming in and grabbed Taylor by the throat and preceded to feed him shots, he then walked to his bed room and brought out a machete. We had many weapons lying around the house and so when I seen Joe wielding the sword, I pulled one out of the couch and we both pointed the humongous knifes at him, we told him if he ever tried to steal from us again he would be losing figures.

Joe was extremely sorry for bringing a retard like that into our home and made sure I was ok from the event. Joe has always been my closest friend and is like a brother to me, if the conflict had escalated any further I would have gladly helped him burry the body.

New Beginnings A few months had passed and a new tenant moved in above us, we were told that he was an investigator for the RCMP. This discovery put an immediate halt on all illegal activity in our home; we even reduced smoking cigarettes and pot on the arrival of our new neighbor.

We made a decision that we would be moving, but along with that idea we would make an adventure for ourselves. We did a midnight move and stored all our belongings in Joe’s mother’s garage.

We stayed at his parents’ house for a month before we had the money to go on a trek though the mountains of British Columbia, and make it to our final destination of the sun shine coast.

Joe’s step father Tate drove us out of town and dropped us off in the middle of the high way, we were surrounded by farm land and left in the middle of nowhere. We decided to camp along the side of the road in some bushes in a farmer’s field.

The next morning we began our journey and started walking in the direction of the high way intersection, it had been twenty minutes and not a single person had passed by in a vehicle. We were immediately discouraged by the idea of not getting picked up by a passer-by, but sure enough the first person to drive by was gracious enough to pick us up.

The man was a young oil patcher that was working in Saskatoon; he had been driving for about 13 hours and was headed to Cranston. He wasn’t very talkative, but told us the reason he picked us up was so we could keep him awake on his drive home.

We stopped at a gas station and I offered to buy him food, he seemed offended by this and told me he did not need our money.

Shortly after we found out it was because he had been working seventy-two days in a row, making up to a thousand dollars a day on the oil patch.

Somewhere along our ride to Cranston our driver started getting tired, he fell asleep behind the wheel and we almost had a head on collision with a semi, the one thing that saved us was the chattered road barrier that alerts sleepy drivers.

We offered him a Redbull, as he drank it he apologized for the scare and assured us that the near death experience was going to keep him awake. Joe has always been very faithful in strangers and felt no fear while sitting in the front seat. I on the other had been still very nervous about everything considering it had only been a few months after the diagnosis of my illness.

We finally made it to Cranston where we parted ways with our new friend and preceded to the next point of a journey. We chose to go into an A&W and have a coffee, where we met our next transit driver of our trip. A very old couple approached us and paid for our coffee, the woman asked us where we were going and we explained we were off to the coast and it was my first time in B.C. Shortly after they sat down to their table, we started planning which direction we were going to take in order to reach our destination. The old couple then called Joe over and told us they could take Joe and I to a high way intersection twenty minutes from Cranston. We were ecstatic; we were making great progress on our trip and were meeting great people.

The couple was very old and very German; as we left the restaurant Joe held the door open for the elderly man who had a

walker. As he passed through the doors he said “choochoo, make way for the train”. Which we now know is a very appropriate statement, after learning he was a survivor of the holocaust and lived in one of the larger concentration camps built by the Nazi’s.

They dropped us of at the intersection and gave us ten dollars; we thanked them and went on our way. We spent a fair amount of time waiting at our new pick up spot and decided we would start walking through the mountains. We walked for about three hours with our heavy back packs and made many attempts to thumb for a lift. Finally after about three hours, an old man picked us up and drove us to the nearest town which was a very long ways away.

We were let off in a very small town and had coffee at a shop called the “dragonfly café”, when the waitress noticed our back packs she asked us if we were heading to the famous music festival “Shambala”. We weren’t, but the idea of being so close to it, made me think of giving up the hitch hiking and paying the four hundred dollars to get inside the festival and mooch food off of the campers.

After having coffee we made a sign that said “HOPE”, hoping we would get a lift there. A man in a red truck picked us up and said he would give us a ride down the road to the intersection that would lead to Hope, because most people driving down the road we were on were going to a different town.

Yet again we were at another point in our travels, with a cardboard sign and cigarette in both our mouths. We took photos and waited for the next Good Samaritan to give us a ride; we walked for a while and got a lift from a man heading to Castlegar which would be our final car ride for the day.

We waited all night for a ride, while in the small mountain town, and had to set up camp alongside the road again. It started to rain and Joe had to share the tent with me because he decided that sleeping under the stars was not a good idea anymore.

The next morning we were both very discouraged, both cold and tired. We talked about giving up and catching a bus back to Calgary. We even called the greyhound station to find out how much it cost to get back. We didn’t have enough money and we made the right decision to continue our mission to get to the sunshine coast.

We were surprised that our next driver would be a woman; we talked the entire ride about all sorts of things. We found out that she was a swinger and probably had fantasies about being taken advantage of by two young travelers. We how ever did nothing even close to that rather just make pleasant conversation that put us at ease from having to constantly mind our P’s and Q’s with all the other drivers.

We finally made it to Kelowna, where we would meet up with a friend of Joe’s mother to stay the night. We were fed a spaghetti dinner and slept in the warmth of the camper outside. We stayed there for two nights to reward ourselves from the progress me made in the days prior. But alas we had to move on, the woman we stayed with drove us to yet another pick up and drop off spot on the high way to the coast.

We were so close we could smell the damp air of the ocean even though we were truly hundreds of kilometers away and trapped in the desert after our second last ride that lead us to Merit.

Merit is a desert and is no place for hitch hikers; we were trapped in that town for eight hours in the blazing hot sun.

People even began giving us the figure as though we were doing

something wrong, we gave up and started walking in hopes to find a hostel in the god forsaken town of Merit.

But just then a miracle took place; a man heading all the way to Vancouver picked us up in our final hour of desperation. The man was a savior driving a rusty Honda, he told us that he didn’t know if his car would make it to the coast but he was hoping it would. He was off to find a new life by the ocean after divorcing his wife and being left with nothing. He was by far the kindest person we met on our travels, he let us smoke in the car and told us all about his young life as a hitch hiker. We made it to the last town before Vancouver and stopped at a McDonald’s for a bite to eat, he ordered a Big Mac with no cheese because he was lactose intolerant.

We were finally breathing ocean air, seagulls were overhead and the mountains started to recede as we made it closer to the harbor. We caught the last fairy to the Sun Shine Coast in the nick of time, my first time ever seeing the ocean and we were on our final ride to our destination.

We ported at the harbor of the Sun shine coast and met Joe’s auntie Sherry, we got back to her trailer where she had a welcoming party, everybody was enjoying Mushroom tea and I would be embarking on yet another “trip”.

Sunny days Going to the Sunshine coast was ultimately a bad choice; I was not emotionally or psychologically stable enough to deal with the overwhelming feeling of being in a different part of the country on my own. The stress of having to be in nine different strangers vehicles to get there was hard enough as it was. Let alone the psychological damage doing mushrooms had on my frail mind.

Drinking was a problem for me at the time and still is, alcohol has been a method of self-medicating since I left the hospital. Joe had many friends that still lived on the coast and I was excited to have a good time partying with them.

Cocaine in B.C is much better then in Calgary, it’s imported from different countries directly to the harbor and there for has been touched by less hands, ensuring that it hasn’t been mixed with anything or too much of anything.

We partied the way any cowboy from Alberta would, we drank hard and did hard drugs. The potency from the uncut cocaine was too intense for me, but the amazing high I got from it was enough to make me want to do more.

We drank heavily while doing blow only twice while I was out there, but the chemical alteration it caused my brain was enough to render me back to near complete insanity.

I spent my last few days on the coast recovering from my endeavors and trying to relax, with only a few drinks and lots of rest. I finally decided that after two weeks of being a hard core party animal, it was time to catch a bus home and ultimately learn from my short lived, worldly experiences.

Sometime later I had been frequently going for check up’s with my psychologist to tell him of my progress, I was still very insane and needed something that could help me step outside my social boundaries and learn how to be human again.

My doctor told me about a program called Art recruits; it was a program that focused on helping people with mental illness reintegrate into the work force. I took it as an opportunity to finally have a reason to get out of the house and make art in the process.

The studio was in a building called Art Central; this building housed one of my favorite galleries so I was excited to join their program. There was three months of regular art related activities and support from the program facilitators. I found the inspiration I was looking for to ultimately start a life in a positive manner.

I have always had a passion for creating art, and even used it as a form of therapy once out of the hospital. Most of my creations before that were inspired by drugs, I found that because I was high on hallucinogens, the painting would speak to me and my only way to continue the creative conversation was to keep applying paint onto the canvas.

While in the program at Studio C; I wanted to get out of my parents’ house and be independent again, not only was that bad idea but also damaging to my relationship with a friend.

I’m choosing to leave out this part of my story out, out of respect to my friend and what I assume would be his wishes.

Needless to say, I was still at my parents’ house sorting my life out with brief moments of drunken mindlessness. When the

program was finished, all the participants had a final exhibit of their work. It’s was the first time my creations met an audience of more than just my few friends and family.

I was thrilled; finally I had some fulfillment in my otherwise dull existence as a drunken schizophrenic. I could continue making art in hopes that one day I would have a solo show, sell my art and proclaim myself as an artist.

But the inspiration faded, I was now only concerned with receiving my well-fair checks and spending my cash on alcohol to enjoy myself a few times a month. I worked with my dad a few times and made no effort to save my money for art supplies or future desires.

My dad has always been a drinker, ever since I could remember he’s been drunk. But his addiction was finally taking him to an all-time low and I was soon to follow. Joe’s mom was working night shifts at the local 7/11 and worked with a particularly strange girl named Beth, I heard word of Beth and her family’s oil money and how she was in need of a boyfriend because she needed someone to go to the Nickleback concert with her.

One night, after Tate and I were coming back home from an extremely drunken night at the Motor Head and Mega death concert, we stopped in to 7/11 to visit Joe’s mother and Beth. In my drunken state, I talked to Beth and told her I would go to the Nickleback concert with her. Her and her friend both looked at me in amazement, how a guy so obviously drunk could think now is a good opportunity to ask a girl out. Well the answer is why wouldn’t I? I was drunk!

A few days later I spoke to Beth and asked her out, despite her being the most atrocious looking person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. But who was I to judge, I mean, I’m no gem myself.

Every time I had ever seen Beth after that, I was drunk, I was completely disgusted by her and I would have to be intoxicated in order to bare her annoying voice and stench. She had many qualities about her that made me want to cringe and burst out at her with insults. But I told myself, if I’m ever going to get that oil money, I’m going to have to play ball.

Beth and I dated for three months; my life had come to an alltime low. She enabled my alcoholism and practically fed me take out every time I seen her, which was at least four times a week.

With the constant consumption of the booze and food she provided, I ended up gaining forty pounds.

I was a disgusting beer drinking, cheese burger eating, obnoxious asshole using this poor girl for her money. Eventually she clued in to my behaviour after buying me a camcorder, a brand new cellphone and a laptop. I left my parents’ house during this time because, my dad’s drinking was worse than mine, he was chronically ill from constant poisoning himself and the house smelt of piss and shit from his inability to control his bodily functions.

It had been three months since anyone had paid rent at the house I grew up in, and my family was being evicted. I got in an argument with my dad, lecturing about his health and he told me to leave. I took that as an opportunity to take off yet again.

I began sleeping on my auntie’s couch, when I got a call from a government office telling me that my supported income was going to be boosted seventy-five percent because I was permanently disabled from my illness.

My illness has always been a concern to my family because, they don’t understand it. When I told my auntie about the “spiritual visit” I got in the middle of the night while staying with her, she

took it upon herself to inform my family. I did not think that I was experiencing symptoms of my illness; I only thought a ghost spoke to me because my auntie is into angle reading.

Surely someone who claims to hear the voices of angles would know a spiritual occurrence like that when she sees one, nope; she immediately lost all her angle reading credibility by chalking my experience up to my mental illness.

Despite everything, the concern of my family grew on me and I admitted myself into a mental facility yet again. I spent only one week in the hospital because, I was certain that I was fine and only suffered from being a fat drunk.

My parents and I moved to Bowness, which was the first time my family had moved for sixteen years. I made an effort in our new home, to better myself. I took up healthy eating and exercise for about a month in a half before I crashed and continued my life as a drunken schizophrenic artist.

Sometime went by where I was doing alright and the next year was fairly uneventful, apart from my drinking and occasional drug use. I continued making art but spent most of my time being alone on the computer. I was comfortable for a few months, my dad was sober for a while and there were no real stressors in my life.

But eventually the anniversary of my illness was upon me, and Christmas was on its way. My friends were dating young girls who also liked to part take in recreational drugs; the month of December was very hard. Like most people I get depressed that time of year and the downhill spiral my mental stability was heading in, was weighing on me. I could tell my friend were sick of me being around, I felt unwanted and unappreciated.

I understand why this is, because I also dislike people with mental illness and addiction, I find them annoying.

Finally New Year’s had come around and I was at my final breaking point, I consumed drugs and alcohol for the last time. I was tired of my thoughts and my inability to control my emotions, I considered suicide because I had enough of my symptoms and my destructive personality.

But I made a different path for myself.

Five months of fitness After the New Year, tired of being unhappy about my mental and physical health, I made a commitment to myself, to live a more productive and fulfilling life. I paid for a gym membership and started the New Year with a healthy attitude. I went every other day lifting weights with a fresh food and booze free diet.

I found inspiration and meaning in my life, I was losing body fat and feeling mentally sharp. As my body started getting more fit, I started getting more confident in myself. I started tanning because, I wanted to attract a girl and start dating. I was all of a sudden the bright minded kid I once was, with an outlook that brought happiness into my world.

Girls started talking to me on the bus, I started to smile more. I started skateboarding again, and I wasn’t all that bad either. I was truly enjoying myself and all it took was treating myself better and having something to focus my energy on.

I was being treated different, like I was a normal person again.

Solo Show The year prior I had been attending an art function called “art battles” at a gallery called Gorilla house, it was very commonly known amongst the people that attended that I was a drunken lunatic.

It had been a few months since I had been to the gallery because I felt unwanted by the other people, when I showed up around three months after I started exercising, the owner gave me a hug and asked what it was that was different about me. I was happy to announce that I lost weight and stopped drinking.

The owner and I began talking and I asked him if he had anyone lined up to exhibit their work on the walls, he told me to bring my work in and he could figure something out. The next day I arrived at gorilla house with a collection of my work and put in the basement for it to be on the walls soon.

A month passed by and finally my work was ready to hang, I showed up the day of my grand opening with frozen berries and milk to make milk shakes for people who came to see the art.

I was thrilled; I had told all my closest friends and family and even made an invitation list of Facebook. I was more than smitten, my childhood dream was coming true, and people were going to see my work hanging on the walls of a gallery like I was a big shot.

The night went on and no one showed up to celebrate the grand opening of my exhibition, I knew my family would come, because well, they’re family. But surely at least one of my friends would come see me on my big day.

I was heartbroken; I knew not everyone would make it but, no one? The owner of the gallery said something to me that I won’t forget. He said “people don’t like seeing other people succeed in life” which is the saddest truth I’ve ever had to learn.

No one bought my paintings.

An interesting bus ride Winter wasn’t going away and I grew sick of the snow, I had been talking to a childhood friend that was now living in Vancouver. I took it as a great opportunity to take a vacation, and bought a bus ticket to the coast.

While in the stations terminal about to board the greyhound, I saw a girl that looked to be about my age that was heavily tattooed. I struck up a conversation with her about her ink and we continued to talk.

She asked me to be her travel buddy because; she did not want to have to sit beside a weirdo. I told her that sitting beside me would be a big mistake because; I’m the biggest weirdo in the bus station.

We boarded the bus and started to get to know each other, she said we were going to play a game of twenty-one questions. I thought there would be no harm in it, that it would shorten the travel time if I kept my mind occupied with conversation.

Which is where things started getting interesting, the first question that popped out of her mouth was if I had ever chocked a girl during sex. A huge smile grew on my face, I realised I was talking to my type of lady and answered “yes”.

From there I learnt that she was friends with a midget that I remember seeing working in a skateboard shop downtown. So of course one of my questions was if she ever had sex with him.

She laughed, and told me that sometimes when she’s drunk she lets him eat her out. I was amazed by the conversation we were having, it was like I met my equal.

She fell asleep on the bus and used my shoulder as a pillow, when the bus arrived at her stop; I got off the bus with her and had a smoke while she waited for a cab. She gave me a hug goodbye and said we should do something when we are back in Calgary.

But that was the last time I ever saw her.

That Great Columbia Cocaine Erin and I have known each other since grade two, she was one of the first people I ever smoked pot with growing up.

We were the innovators of generation Y’s hipster scene, I’m not lying, we really were the first ones to do it.

She had been living in Vancouver with her boyfriend of five years and it would be our first time seeing each other since we were in high school. Once I got off the bus I used the GPS on my phone to locate the park we were supposed to meet at.

We were so happy to be reunited after all the years and it seemed like neither one of us had changed, she told me that her boyfriend was interested in meeting me and that we would have a good time. We took the bus to her apartment in English bay and I bought some beer so I could drink while I watched the tide roll in.

When I met her boyfriend we immediately clicked and started talking over beers, Erin had already been to work and back in the time it took us to buy another case. We all decided that we were going to the grocery store so we could make dinner.

While outside the grocery store her boyfriend and I stayed outside and had a smoke, her boyfriend was still eager to party.

We met a local who seemed a little out of the norm and started talking to us about his new game boy console. Sure enough Erin’s boyfriend asked him if he could find us some “soft”.

The Space case replied and said “I can have it delivered within the next ten minutes”. Erin’s boyfriend and I waited with the tweaker for five minutes when he got a call on his cell. It was the dealer and he was parked across the street. We only got a half a

gram because we didn’t need to get to out of control on my first day.

We got drunk and got high, Surprisingly I wasn’t having a bad time but like every other time I do coke, I want more. The booze was all gone and the night was over before I knew it.

Erin, her boyfriend and I all decided to go swimming in the apartment pool and the remainder of the night was just relaxation and relief from the tiring weather in Calgary. It’s only sad that every good memory starts with getting high.

Erin wasn’t able let me stay than for more than a few days at a time, which was no problem because I had family that lived in Victoria. She had a friend who worked at Harbor airlines and was able to get me a buddy pass to fly from Vancouver to the island. It was my first time on a plane and it only cost me fifteen dollar’s, although I got sick from flying I still enjoyed every minute of it.

I made It to my uncle and aunties place safe and sound, my uncle Rae asked me what I would like to while I was out there and I told him I just wanted to see the sights and enjoy myself. My uncle told me we could go crab fishing all I need to do was pay for a weekend license. Needless to say my entire week on the island consisted of fishing for crab and drinking beers.

When the week was over I caught the fairy back to Vancouver and reunited with Erin once again, this time she had a friend with her, Lulu.

Lulu was a French girl with blond hair with an amazing accent and brightness about her. Now, I don’t have a hard time falling in love with beautiful women, but in most cases they are the wrong ones. Lulu was not interested, but it wasn’t because I was a fat

alcoholic, no, those days are long behind me. Lulu is a lesbian, and is only interested in women.

As we drove into the city she said she was hungry because of the weed she was smoking earlier, and I said “you got the munchies’”. She had yet to hear this word being that she just learnt English and thought it was a great word.

We all decided we were going to cure the munchies’ with chocolate cake and eat it, while watching the sunset on the beach. To this day, I still can’t grasp the reality of how beautiful that moment in history was. We all seemed at complete peace with our existence and the sheer beauty of our plants environment.

I will never forget the flavour of that cake, the amazement of the power behind the metaphor the sun set had, translating to new horizons with every particle of light shining on our faces.

Lulu and I spent a few days together sitting on the beach and talking about things, she was having trouble pronouncing a word that she felt represented her very well. Philosophical, which was true, she had a great philosophy and appreciation for life that inspired me to continue enjoying the beauty in everything.

My final night in Vancouver was the most memorable; Erin’s boyfriend and I made a pit stop before it all began. We picked up some MDMA as a grand finally to my vacation, the night went smoothly. We snorted a few lines of M and had some drinks with Erin and my new friend Lulu, I was very high to say the least and I know Erin’s boyfriend was too. All of us wanted to go do karaoke but couldn’t find the place it was at. So we all went to a Korean restaurant and ate dumplings and drank hot Saki.

The entire time I couldn’t help but wonder if Lulu liked me, Erin told me she was kind of bisexual but a greater portion of my thoughts just assumed she was just a nice person. We all went back to Erin’s apartment and listened to oldies. Erin’s boyfriend passed out and I slowly started to sink into the couch and rode the train to sleepy town.

The next day, before I left Lulu said she wanted to stay with me but I was snoring to loud. I assumed she meant sleep over and I just didn’t know what she meant because of her French accent.

Not long after I was on the bus back to Calgary and Vancouver became another memory.

Share the Love Once I had a taste of the chemicals in B.C, I was back at it but this time with a different approach. I had a friend who I consider to be a Hippie; she has dreadlocks and smells of popery.

I started spending more time with her, enjoying the underground night life of the modern day hippies.

I was first invited to come to a house party, after my friend Emerald came to my BBQ and seen it was a failure. I brought my drunken friend Kay along with me as a wing man in case there were any sexy ladies there.

We only drank beers the first night we were at the house; apparently it was a warm up party for the bigger one that was taking place the next day. The next day was different; I showed up at Emeralds house and was excited to have a hoot with all the supposedly spiritually endowed participants of the gathering.

Of course there were drugs, and I intended on doing some in order to broaden my antenna for receiving positive vibrations, there was a girl who was clearly into me and even told me how she hasn’t been laid in over a year. I was repulsed by her and tried to refrain from talking to her for the rest of the evening.

Emerald and I were thunder buddies for the rest of the night; we shared laughs and beers in amongst the happy hippies. At one point in the night, we sat at the top of the stairs blocking the way of people trying to go to the bath room. We would recite a tune from the Muppet’s and if the person couldn’t finish the tune, we would not grant them access.

There was another hippie gathering the week after, it was held at a venue and named “share the love”. Before the musicians went on stage there was an art market, which I had a booth in.

Although, I’ve always been one to start the party early I sat at my art decorated booth high on M until the night proceeded onward.

There is a thing in these circles that are specially designed to comfort the restless mind of a tweaker, they are called cuddle puddles. I spent most of my night stoned out of my mind, in a dimly light room filled with pillows, surrounded by other brain dead hippies.

At some point in the night, two musicians got into an argument and one of them flipped out. He went around the building lighting all the posters for the event on fire. I was outside at the time and everyone was rushing out because, the fire alarm went off.

I rushed in to save my paintings and grab my shoes; the party was then transferred over to a house that the hippies named “home on the range”. The night seemed to go on forever and I was ready to go to bed, I did what my instincts told me to do in that situation.

I hid under a very furry blanket that was used as a seat cover, and slowly sank into unconsciousness. The next morning was a nightmare; there were still drug frenzied people in the living room getting high. They were surprised to see me because, they had no idea I was in the room the entire time.

I left the house and caught a bus home; the remainder of the day was me trying to put the pieces of the night’s memories back together in order.

Nowhere land A few months went by where I was working steadily and even gave dating a try; it was now August, which meant it was time for another adventure. My Auntie Jacquie has always been a huge inspiration for me, her involvement in my childhood made a huge impression. She is the reason I started painting in the first place, so sure enough I thought it would be the right time for another art lesson.

I caught a bus to the small town of Mayerthorpe, where my auntie picked me up. The bus ride had been unnecessarily long and I was tired, so she told me to rest before we plan our time together.

When I woke up from my well-deserved nap, we talked about what sort of things I would like to learn and what I could do as payment for feeding me. We decided that my main goal was to learn portraiture and my job while staying there would be transplanting her rose bushes.

My dad told me, that I would learn more about life then art while staying with her. He’s always loved his sister because; he believes her life is a bench mark for joy and peace. Growing up, I’ve only seen her at her brightest moments, where her personality shines with youth and playfulness. Truth is, she is a very strong willed and edgy person when she is not around others.

She had a very strict schedule with her adopted child, which got in the way of all art I hoped to be making while I was there. I did learn many things from her; I learnt that having balance in your life requires hard work and strong organizational skills. This is something I’ve been working on since my stay with her; I’ve

always been very hyper-focused with all my inspirations and get burnt out and disinterested quickly.

My auntie told me something that resonated well with me, she said “part of being a responsible adult, is to have control of your inner child”. She then added that she was over weight because her inner child had control over her eating habits. This was hard to except because, my inner child plays a big role in my life. It’s also the reason I have no restraint from indulging in drugs and alcohol, since then I’ve made an effort to control the selfdestructive child living inside me.

In our lessons together, I learnt quickly that I did not like painting portraits anymore. At some point in my creative process before painting with my auntie, I lost my ability to be patient. I told her about the “art battles” I had been attending and that most of my recent work was only made within a two hour time period.

She found the concept for gorilla house intriguing, so we decided to plan our own event while I was there.

Three weeks went by and it was finally the day of our event, we made posters and even called the town newspaper to document it. My auntie was amazed with the turn out; someone said that it was the biggest turn out the town library had for something art related. Since my diagnosis I’ve been very nervous about talking in front of large groups, when explaining the concept of the battle, I rushed through it and most of the people had confused looks on their faces.

My painting sucked, I was too nervous and my work showed it. I put too much effort in planning the event and not preparing my creative juices for it. But people were excited to be doing something new, new ideas are fairly foreign to small town like

this one. The battle was a success and I was able to leave an impression on new people through the medium of art.

The day after the battle I was headed home, I was excited to see our article in the town newspaper. Although our little gathering didn’t get published I was not disappointed, I had made new memories for myself and my dad was right, I did learn some life lessons.

Process of evaluation Christmas was nearing and my trip to Mayerthorpe was long and gone, the heavy drinking and gun shooting with my cousins in between art lessons triggered the wild man inside me.

I was at a cross roads in my life, I had to choose between drinking and moving forward in a positive manner.

I took it upon myself to meet a girl and surprisingly I did. I used a dating website to meet the next love of my life and the second most beautiful thing I’ve destroyed. Her name was Ruby; she was a short chubby girl with long brown hair, she was free spirited and had the open mindedness I was looking for.

We first met after I invited her to my parent’s house, I told her that it was for the most part unthreatening and we could just hang out and enjoy a cold one. When she arrived I took her into my studio and initiated conversation by telling her to draw in one of my sketch books. I offered her beer and she accepted it, although she didn’t drink it.

After twenty minutes or so she asked where the closest liquor store was and we walked to pick up a bottle of wine for her. We got back to my house and listened to blues music while we talked about ourselves in order to get to know each other.

She drank quickly and I had already been fairly tipsy, when she asked to use my computer I told her to make it quick because I wanted her to sit beside me. I surprised her by grabbing her bum as she sat down beside me, within seconds we both looked at each other and knew that, that was the moment to begin making out.

It was steamy, in fact we told ourselves to slow down because it was escalating too soon. As the night went on the sexual tension

grew, I gave into temptation and converted my couch into a bed, I turned the lights off and the intensity of our attraction lead to sex. She moaned loudly, it was the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard come from a girl. I began to get fatigued and was too drunk to ejaculate with the condom on; we took a break and rewarded our efforts with a cigarette. I apologized for having whiskey dick and she said there was no need for it because, she enjoyed herself.

Minutes after, she asked if we could try again. She wanted to finish me off and was offended I couldn’t cum, after all she felt she was pretty and should be able to satisfy me. She rigorously proceeded to give me head and was the best oral I had ever had.

She deep throated my penis and would take moments to catch her breath while wiping her runny nose and teary eyes. When I finally came we were both relieved, I took it upon myself to return the favour. I know little to none about how to give a girl head so I followed what I’ve seen in pornographies. I was surprised to discover I was not half bad and I had to change my sheets because she left a puddle on them.

The next morning I was exhausted, I barely slept from never having strangers in my bed. We took a cab to her house where we would continue making love with short breaks in between.

She told me she was leaving to B.C to go to school; she wanted to continue seeing me and said she would come visit me the next month before Christmas.

The next month I picked her up at the airport and we spent four days together falling in love with each other. I took her to the movies, and we went for dinner the last night she was in Calgary.

I was depressed with the idea of making our new relationship work from being apart for such long periods of time.

Sadly to conversations started to dissipate, she stopped replying to my txt’s and made little to no effort making small talk.

Christmas had passed and so did New Year’s, the day before I moved into my new home, she broke up with me. My last words to her were my confession to having a mental illness and being on supported income from the government.

My new year started with a break up and I was now a bachelor in my new apartment. Soon after, I went for an annual checkup and found out I had Chlamydia, this was the reason she dumped me.

Happiness is an expensive habit I’ve been a part of the trending scene of people that are considered to be modern day revolutionaries; with no purpose, they just use dread locks and party favors like used clothes as a mask for getting high, and leading a life style surrounding the “idea” of being wholesome and virtuous.

In these circles, I’ve never felt more misunderstood, people who are presumably the next generation of peace and understanding, with the fight for gay rights and the legalization of pot as their weapon.

I’ve never blended well with any social groups other than my own; I’ve never found any common ground amongst the people of earth. There is too much separation between the two very powerful personalities living in my character, polar opposites that collide within one spectrum of my psyche. A compassionate child and an ignorant old man, stuck in his ways with his wrongness routed in more information than anyone that is right.

I’ve always considered myself a bit of a star child, a hippie reincarnate, born in the end of a millennium. But I was shocked to find that some of the tree hugging freeloaders had more selfacceptance and carelessness then I did. My methods were a little more reserved unlike the tranquilized stoners wearing nothing but their birthday suit in front of complete strangers.

I chose to accept it as self-expression rather than indecent exposure; I didn’t join them only watched in amazement and disgust. My decision to express myself through slapping paint on a canvas was good enough for me I thought. So what if they don’t understand me, I am the real deal, an artist tormented by addiction and mental illness.

I willingly took part in the destruction of my own mind, only to forcefully rebuild in attempt regain sanity and clarity. To this day; I still romantically fantasise about smoking pot to help the creative process. Now, I only burn my lungs and tongue with cigarettes and hot coffee. Look at me now, a complete yuppie do gooder trying to sell my memories as a tragic novel.

I can’t help but think the ending to this book would be far more poetic if I just killed myself, nothing would be more tragic. But a part of me thinks living a normal life after all the trials and tribulations searching for happiness is just as tragic. am the survivor of the punishment dealt by my own hand; I have found beauty beneath the chaos.

While writing this book I realized my purpose, which is to continue telling stories of my life. I focus a lot of my efforts towards telling the dark innards of the pursuit of happiness, and with that I have my own diluted understanding of what true satisfaction is.

Finally; we come to the conclusion of my memoirs, the meaning of my stories. I believe there is a positive message behind what I’ve shared with you.

I am here today as evidence, that we are capable of living rich lives despite making pour choices. I I’m going to leave you with something my dad told me once and I don’t know the origins of the quote, but it goes something like this. “Sometimes the most beautiful roses grow in the best shit”.

Thank you.