Looking at life through shit tinted shades. Clarke suffers from pretty much everything his doctor tells him to. But then he meets Lilith Humus. Who makes him dip his foot into the deep end.


3. If Lilith is Humus then I am crab dip

When you get prescription meds, sometimes they give you placebos. Sugar tablets made to taste like the candy coating on your Demerol, Ibuprofen, Viagra  or what have you. This is why I bite into the first one of a new load. I bite into it. Because then i will know if my antidepressants, beta blockers, SSRI's or what have you are going to work. Well, i say work. Just keep me smooth sailing. 


I take the first one.

I bite in.

It tastes like a skittle just no fruit flavoring. It tastes like the most depressing skittle in the world. On the tip of my tongue is the most burnt out, disgraceful skittle in the world. I swallow it. I'm still in the doctor's office. I look the receptionist in the eye. I smile. She smiles back. She looks how a single mom would if you told her how shitty her kids actually were. But still, she smiles. I empty the pills into my mouth.


This is a placebo test.

This is me acting out.

This is what my therapist would call, a cry for help.


Why is it called a cry for help when all i hear is this screaming in the back of my head. Behind the daddy issues and repressed molestation and the abandonment issues. This isn't the crying of a little child. These are the screams of a grown man who is older in his head than he ever should be. I have been twenty eight since I was twelve. I remember the day. I ages fifteen years before the blood dried like paint on the wall into a dark stain that I tore of the wall and keep under my mattress. My mom was an eight year old girl and my dad has been dead for thousands of years. When you are chugging fake pills time and chronology are relative. 


The receptionist gets up. Only now i notice the people around me. They think they have just witnessed a suicide attempt. 


This is acting.

This is acting out.

This is acting to the moon and back. 


I fall to the ground. Not even sure why. My legs give way because it feels like the write thing to do. You never think you can force vomit until you have enough people to repulse. I have the paramedics here faster than if a black man looking suspicious. 


I am not sure why but my actual vision is blurring. This is strange. 


Acting is a lot harder than you would expect. 


I think.


I feel.


This is the first time i think i met Lilith. It is a small world. I probably know her friend who went out with her boyfriends brothers ex. Or something like that. But is the first time i saw her. The unbleached hair on her lip that you only notice if you look hard enough at someone but you don't mind it at all because it isn't ugly on someone you fall in love with. 




I say love.


I probably mean want to fuck but I am too busy acting like i have over dosed to notice.


She has her hair scraped back. A trucker cap on. She smells like worn clothes, hair dye, sweat, cigarettes and medicine. She smells how an ambulance would if you wanted to marry it, have it bear your children and grow old with it. 


In fact, i think i would have a better chance with the ambulance. She sweeps my hair from my face.


'Can you hear me Clarke, is that your name?'


''Mmrrrhhhhfffhhmmerrhh' Is all i can say. There is probably a tribe somewhere that has never seen a white man that could translate that to 'My name is whatever you want it to be sugar.' 


'His heart is giving out' She says it calmly. She turns to her friend. Some dude. He has probably loved her longer than i have.


I say love.


This is a fact.

This is my cardiac arrest.

This is going rather well.


Did you know the trick to fishing is to use the correct bait. Sometimes a worm is good. Stab it in the side and throw it into the water. it bleeds and drowns and a fish comes. Sometimes you need maggots. Sometimes other fish. 


Sometimes bait you use to catch a certain fish leaves you with something else entirely.


Sometimes a fake suicide attempt to show people you won't be fooled by fake medication can catch you a beautiful green eyed sweetheart with a concerned look in her eye and a mole on the back of her hand that may or may not be benign. 


Tumors are everywhere.


'How many of these did he take?' She asks. 'How many are in the bottle? Christ we need to get him to hospital. He needs his stomach pumped and well. Jesus fucking Christ why did nobody stop him?'


Sometimes when you think you are flying you are really just on a gurney. Maybe those dreams of flying are just the future sensation of you in hospital. About to be split open. Cut open. Probed. 


'Placebos. I'm fine.' I say. They come out as words this time. I can see my doctor. I look up at him. 'Fucking placebos' I smirk. 'Next time make sure they are real.'


The look on his face makes me wonder. 


Maybe this isn't what i think it is. Maybe this is me about to die. Maybe those were not sugar tablets at all. Maybe those were fucked up and real. Maybe that act was in line with jumping into traffic or trying to copulate with an alligator. Maybe those were not my meds, maybe they were made to shock me, bring me to the floor and this is a surprise party for me in my honor. And the paramedic is a stripper and she is about to grind on me for single dollar bills until i either come in my pants or lose interest and cut myself in the bathroom for a bit while my erection goes down and when i come out she is actually death himself and i am there bleeding out, my soul being dragged away to-


'Shh it'll be ok. I am Lilith. You are going to be fine.


I would say fat chance.

If i didn't believe her.


But this is a truth i guess.


This is Lilith.

This is how we met.

This is the rest of my life about to happen.


Give me strength. 

Cardiac arrest.

Give me that moment when a normal person would think 'have i left the oven on' and i think 'did i let that hooker out my apartment before i left?

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