|
sirmoonie
|
I read this excerpt from a upcoming book. Figured it belonged in the NFL thread.
"The thought of the plane ride home hit me hard. More panic for my physically panicked body. So much I began to think I couldn’t make it. Escape hatches churned through my head – I missed the plane, the plane was delayed so I stayed another day to work, I got knocked down and checked myself in the hospital. I fleetingly did think about checking myself in – could they pump me full of water and get me detoxified? Use an IV – Amber and her fucking heroin like? I could get alcohol at the airport and on the plane though. I hadn’t had a drink in quite a few hours and was no longer drunk. At least I didn’t think I was. Could I drink in this condition? Would I puke? I was really wondering what I could handle. I couldn’t believe I was at this level of sickness, drenched in psychoactive drugs and their byproducts. But if I could drink, it would save me. It would be hard getting the first few down, but then I could get some more and milk them easy. Milk it home. I just needed to get into my bed, and rest up. Heal up from this, and move on forward. Things were fine, if I could just get back on track and get rid of these distractions. That’s all these were, that’s all this last 12 hours of crack cocaine were, fucking distractions from the goal."
|