Fasting note by shahd ✼
♡ - The train doors open and I bolt out. Not wanting to be surrounded by the dirty, drug polluted, subway air any longer. I speed-walk to my next train. Bystanders besides me must think I am in a hurry to catch my next train. Little do they know. I am not in a hurry at all. I simply do not want to breathe in this poorly ventilated environment.
But it’s also because I feel guilt. I feel guilt whenever I walk past a homeless person on the street. Guilty not because I do not give them money to feed their addiction but guilty because they cannot help their addiction. They cannot control their cravings. Some can, but most can’t. I am guilty because one day they will succumb to their addiction. There will come a time where the addiction wins, I feel guilty because I know it. They know it too, they don’t want to believe it, but they know it too.
“I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy”
- Walt Whitman
I see them crouched over, head almost touching their legs while simply standing. They cannot hold their balance. They cannot keep their eyes open. What they think about I do not know. What they see inside their head I do not know.
“Depriving me of my best as for a better purpose”
- Walt Whitman
I often think about the first time they took drugs. I often think about the events that lead to it. Maybe they went to a party with their friends. Maybe the drugs were there and maybe they were told to “just try it, it won’t kill you!” or “you only live once!”
Or maybe they were war veterans. Maybe they took pain pills and antidepressants just to sleep better at night. Maybe they were shut out by the country they fought for. Maybe drugs were the only constant thing in their life.
Maybe, just maybe. Maybe they are not the “dirty druggies” we automatically assume they are.
thank u for reading :)
- shahd ✼