Mouthful of Diamonds

“Wake up,” she said… I found myself hunched over the bed, half dead as she would claim. Everything had spiraled out of control by this point, I lost all focus and now I was living the junkies dream… nightmare was more like it. Everything I ever wanted was well within my position to attain, but what I craved was something that couldn’t be bought at any store, it wasn’t anything that any regular person could have; you had to fight for it, and when you finally were fortunate to get your fingers close enough, there was no turning back. I wanted power, I wanted respect.

The power was easy, and the respect… well that was easy at first, however both were done thanks to the power of fear, and fear alone. I had become bigger than I ever imagined unfortunately this left as a perfect target for more than one type of person. I walked around every day with a bullseye on the back of my head, practically begging to be taken out by the next punk that thought he knew what he was doing, or hell even the heat that would’ve loved to permanently solve their problem. I was in a constant state of panic, but I had to stay calm, I had to look cool, I had to be in control otherwise my whole tower would’ve definitely crumbled from beneath my feet.

I buried my nose in my own product; I buried myself like an ostrich trying to hide. How idiotic could I be? The root of my problems seemed like it could also be my salvation—there was no saving me at this point, I was in too deep, and there was no coming out. Well I suppose the plan was always to go down in a blaze of glory.