Insomnia

I cannot sleep. Calls missed from the muse bring my hopes of shutting my eyes for the night to a ultimate halt - one that goes on for three days straight - my body aching as the H continues to seep out of my system slowly imitating the tender swing of a pendulum clock. I want her dead.
I'd most rather be having a nightmare.
Morning comes. The pains have become so excruciating in the form of sore muscles that I take a line before leaving for work. Monday. Also known as intake day.
The ward is an overload of detained hookers, runaways who were deemed unstable when found, and the typical twenty something year old who was brought in by police for domestic abuse.
I meet with half of them. Too many borderlines seeking benzodiazepines for "anxiety" and "panic disorder". Go on, make yourselves at home, my expression must scream as I oblige to their wants. Their addiction issues are not my problem until they admit it to a nurse and seek therapy. The world stops for no one.
I am an addict myself and will not seek help. I know how to quit. I know how to not die from a hit. Who am I harming with my meth and heroin? Both of my parents are gone. Everything I do for this world can be done by someone finer at the job. After all, we are only a sum of our actions. And sometimes I cannot tell if this is suicidal ideation or ethicality in its most cold form.
I haven't had time to mourn Kitty— Mum —God, she was anything but, however I do deal with women like her at work daily. Borderlines. Alcoholics. Divorcees who cannot live with themselves.
I am a widow. And I love it now. I understand not everyone is as strong as I. Natural selection and I are a close-knitted affair in where I astray from her to go abuse drugs and contemplate a homicidal kidnapping of someone I once adored. Become the weakest kind of human. Did you know my mother almost called my birth name Kent?
Do you know how simple my life would be if that were my destination through nomenclature? If I were a welder, I mean.
I put my philosophical thoughts in the back of my mind and focus on the patient in front of me. He continues to look out the window as the sun shines straight in his eyes. I offer him Klonopin for his anxiety, explaining that I do not have a diagnosis to medicate him properly using. He threw a fit at his mother for taking away his alcohol.
"Is this a psychology test? Fail me."
I stare hard at him.
"Michael, I wouldn't be so inclined to waste both our time on testing that is manipulative, thus ineffective."
"I don't know what kind of lab meds you want to put me on–"
"Watch yourself."
This is his last warning to shut his mouth and oblige to the Klonopin. He knows these interviews are being recorded but is unaware that they can also be used against him in a court. Try getting your human rights back once you've been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I have ruined lives over this painful decision.
If only I could go back in time to when she was in my care. When my selfish will was to protect her from the system the last person I had in mind was my future self being ever so disgusted with her young adult mind. So virginal for an age many pornstars make their debuts affronting themselves for an income. I should have known better than to trust her with my dignity. She has made me choose between her and my suffering subconscious.

—

I am too high. The phone has rung fourteen times in the past two hours. Nothing will remove me from my computer desk as I lay my head against the wood enjoying the manmade warmth of heroin.
On the fifteenth call, I answer reluctant to speak into the phone and let my thoughts pour out of my damaged soul. I am passionate in peril of my fucking hatred. But I am not a fool.
"Hello, Melody."
"Sorry to bother you this late."
Take that back, you lying wench.
"You are not bothering me, dear."
Fucking whore.
Stupid fucking whore.
"How are you?"
I close my eyes.
"I am fine. What have I missed?"
"Typical stepfather trying to talk me into becoming an accountant instead of following my dreams."
"Always follow your dreams, love."
Melody sighs.
"Sometimes I believe him."
You also believe there is a possibly of us happening. Piss off.
"Look. Never allow someone…. with less substance than you to determine where you are passionate and best fitted." I force the words out. I cannot tell her she is an idiot. Soon to be dead before any form of journalism aside from exhibiting her anus with a fifty six year old man takes place.
"Thanks, Cal." She says. "You don't know how much I need you."
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"Goodnight, Mel."
I hang up the phone before I can slam my fist against the table as hard as possible.