Waiting

My dealer has been making me wait for hours. It burns up my evenings with anxiety and pacing. I half watch the TV and do my crossword, listening hard to the engines of the cars as they pass. Yesterday, I waited on the balcony with my new friend, Jay. He uses too, and he's been visiting almost every day. I don't think my boyfriend likes it. When they're both in the same room he gets strangely quiet. I'm going to ignore that because it's so nice to have a friend. Jay pays for his habit by shoplifting 32 bottles of wine a day. Yesterday we got high together, me shooting, him smoking. I always feel odd, my blood rolling down my arms, spilling onto my dress as I search for kleenex or anything cleanish to wipe with. Cleaning my needles, I'm used to just squirting the old blood onto the floor. His eyes make me realize how grubby I've become. I had all of my drugs in two shots, it lasts much longer for him, smoking helps a lot. It was too hot to just lie in front of the TV, and we always talk over it anyway, so we went for milkshakes. They were huge and minty, with chocolate chips. $5.50 each, it was like a meal. It felt nice to splurge, I lent him his drug money and bought his milkshake, being payday. But strangely, I couldn't feel my drugs. I'm at a bad level now. I've gone beyond, pushed higher. Too high. I sent him to get more for me, I still couldn't feel anything. But my fingers swelled and my pupils were small. I just didn't feel the safeness. Maybe it has gone for good.