Diary of a Drug Fiend

Indian Summer 169 Why was I translated into heaven this afternoon? Why had I found my wings? The answer came as quick as the question. It’s the atmosphere of Mabel and the relief of my worry. With that came a rational fear of the drug. I asked her if she hadn’t had any troubles from taking it. “You can’t sleep without it,” she said, but not as if it mattered much, “ and it rather gets on one’s nerves now and then.” She had to rush off to meet her beau for dinner. I went back to our dirty little den, brimming over with joy. I found Cockie sprawling on the bed in the depth of dejection. He did not move whenI came in. I ran to him and covered him with kisses. His eyes were heavy and swollen and his nose was running. I gave him my handkerchief and pulled him up. His clothes were all rumpled and of course he hadn’t shaved. I couldn't resist the temptation of teasing my darling. My love had come back in flood. I tingled with the pain of feeling that he did not respond. I hugged the pain to my heart. My blood beat hard with the joy of power. I held him in my hand. One dainty act, and he was mine. I hadn't the strength to enjoy myself to the full. Pity and tenderness brought the tears to my eyes. I shook out a dose of the dull white He sniffed it up with stupid lethargy like a man who has lost hope of life, yet still takes his medicine as a routine. He came up gradually, but was hardly himself till after the third dose. I took one, too, to keep him company, not because I needed it. I sent bim out to get shaved and buy clean linen. I take a curious delight in writing this diary. I know now why it is and it has rather startled me. It’s just that chance phrase of King Lamus: “ Your magical diary.” I have flirted a lot with Lamus, but it was mostly swank. I dislike the man in many ways.