Roadside Hotel

[BrianEtrius]

Kids: this is the reason why you shouldn't do drugs.
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ItâEUTMs another one of those cheap 15 buck hotels along the interstate of Anywhere USA where the linens are so poorly washed you feel dirty just walking into the room and television seems like something out of a bad 70âEUTMs flick and never works properly despite the amount of whacks you give it on the side.

ItâEUTMs 3 oâEUTMclock in the goddamn morning and all I want to do is to go to sleep but I canâEUTMt because thereâEUTMs a fucking kilo of coke sitting in front of me and unless I deliver it by the set time IâEUTMm so fucked in the ass by not only the mob but by major players on both coasts who IâEUTMm pretty sure might have a bounty on my head which doesnâEUTMt hurt the paranoia nor the insomnia.

ItâEUTMs my stomach thatâEUTMs growling for days which are turning into weeks because IâEUTMve been on edge for weeks now on nothing but fucking coffee and cigarettes thinking about this whole goddamn ordeal and how the hell I got in this mess but that really doesnâEUTMt help me now because if I donâEUTMt help them now theyâEUTMll kill me.

ItâEUTMs this 6 shot revolver that they gave me thatâEUTMs sitting in front of me laying on the table chambered in .44 magnum or what they liked to call âEUoeDirty HarryâEU but it does the opposite for me and makes me feel weaker in this forsaken mess despite it supposed use of giving me protection in a run like this.

ItâEUTMs the fucking programming that they have here thatâEUTMs from some small local station so thereâEUTMs nothing on to watch and now IâEUTMm stuck looking at this huge package knowing that this thing could and probably will kill me despite all my hard work trying to not get fucked over in this business but I know I will.

ItâEUTMs the memory of my girlfriend smiling and laughing as we shared dinner and a bottle of wine on that great date we had months ago where it had been a blind date set up by friends and we had no idea how the nigh would turn out but things that evening just seemed to work and for a second being with her made my world stop and I would kill for that feeling again but itâEUTMs not going to happen.

ItâEUTMs the constant beat of my heart that nearly goes up my throat with every thump as I wait for the footsteps of my hopeful assassins so they can put me out of my misery and I can finally be done dealing with all of these half-wit âEUoegangstersâEU and this goddamn business thatâEUTMs fucked up every single day of my life IâEUTMve been in it.

ItâEUTMs the knowledge that I can never go back and that this is a one way trip for me now and thereâEUTMs nothing I can do about it and itâEUTMs probably a death worthy of this pathetic excuse for a life filled not with happiness and eternal bliss but rather false hope, blown chances, and general fuck ups that cannot be ignored even in the face of death.

ItâEUTMs constant dripping of the faucet that sinks in the bathroom in my room and IâEUTMm pretty sure itâEUTMs a permanent leak because IâEUTMve been listening to it for hours on end but I donâEUTMt go look at it in fear that the moment I move that dripping, like my heartbeat, will stop and I donâEUTMt want that to happen, not quite yet.

ItâEUTMs the bags that are underneath my eyes that grow larger and larger with each passing night in these fucking hotels and if I get one more chance and boy if I ever get that one IâEUTMll sleep like a baby in a motherâEUTMs arms and get the hell away from this awful, pitiful experience and hopefully itâEUTMll just disappear like a bad dream.

ItâEUTMs me crying because I know that such a thing is not possible and that itâEUTMs only my mind trying to find a single possible way out this goddamn mess but it still helps vanquish the terror and evil in my reality and creates a peaceful place that I can finally escape to, a place where I can only remember existing as a child.

ItâEUTMs me, isnâEUTMt it? ItâEUTMs me and my life. ItâEUTMs gone, isnâEUTMt it? The only place I can go to now is the past.

Oh dear god. What have I done with my life?