-The-Guest-Room

The squeeky rear left wheel of the food cart, announces the arrival of the lunch meal to the 76 anticipating stomachs; and awakes the souls of the other 24 tenants of SB1, who would rather sleep thru the afternoon, and the duration of the time they are fated to spend in this 100 person correctional ward.

The funny thing about depression, is that the more you attempt to fight it and you are unsuccessful, the tighter grip it tends to have on your entire being. After a couple of failed attempts to battle and beat the formidable adversary, it becomes obvious, that unless you are able to call upon all of the energy that you can summons, resistance is futile. And once, you give in to this "reality"... sleep becomes your ally and sleep becomes a welcome land of escape...and sleep becomes your best friend. Anything that threatens your retreat to sleep becomes an enemy.

The noisy wheels have become one of many of David's enemies that draw him from a world that doesn't demand that he feel the pain of the reality that screams, yells, forces, and engulfs him when his eyes are open.

Of all days, today is the day that David, would give anything in the world to escape the world. Today is the day that David would prefer to sleep away. If the deal is: " David, today you can sleep away the entirety, but tomorrow you have to be awake... " then today would be filled with nothing more than sleep.

David can feel the firery pain beginning to race up the path of his toes, carve around the scape of calves, like 27 razors and crawl up his thighs, like the untended claws of 22 enraged black panthers. While clenching his eyes shut, in a senseless attempt to damn the tears, David grabs the roll of one ply toilet paper and begins to place sheet after sheet of thin squares into his mouth; until he able to form a small wad. Once his tongue tells him that the intended size is accomplished; he places the moistened creation into his left ear. As the tortuous pain continues the path up thru his intestines and gains momentum with it's entrance into his chest cavity... David feverishly tears more thin squares of toilet paper to repeat the process for his right ear.

With both ears barricaded against the threat of snatching him back from his land of retreat, David reaches into the hiding spot of his mattress that holds the four pills that he has been collecting for the last eight days. Again, requesting his mouth to produce saliva, David places the pills into his mouth and utilizes the collection of fluid to be a river in order to carry the pills on a course to intercept the pain; as it races to reach his throat. David closes his eyes and takes his seat upon the hill to witness the battle between the pills and the pain.

Nine days ago.... February 21, 2018 at 12:38 p.m David James Richardson Jr. made the decision to exchange 13 months of sobriety for the need to escape reality. 216 hours ago, DJ; as his family and friends call him, decided that the addiction had more power than he, and he gave in. 12,960 minutes ago the only son of Sarah Richardson; lost the battle in the war against an enemy called addiction. 777,600 seconds ago David James Richardson Jr, who is the son of David James Richardson; though the two have never seen one another... the younger of the two sat in the middle of the kitchen floor of his mother's two bedroom Yuma Place apartment and completed the task of selling his soul to the $20.00 sack of heroin.

As the drug, which was first manufactured in 1898 by the Bayer pharmaceutical company of Germany and marketed as a treatment for tuberculosis as well as a remedy for morphine addiction set into his veins... David remembers reading that the Sumerians referred to it as the "joy plant"

David chuckles at the irony, as he looks across the kitchen floor and sees the lifeless body of his mother, Sarah laying only inches from the stove; where she cooked him countless meals throughout the 37 years that she has lived in this income based apartment. A smile creases his face as he envisions his mother cooking the first meal for her then 3 year old son. He recalls how proud she was to finally be able to cook "them" a meal in "their" own home.

The battle continues on the interior of David's throat as the four pills fight to overcome the pain of the thoughts of

February 21, 2018. Thoughts of his mother fighting to gain possession of the $20.00 sack; and his "harmless" attempt to push her away.

The members of her church, have raised enough money to make sure that she can have a funeral and descent burial today, and the public defender assigned to defend David in the charge of murdering Sarah Richardson says that there is no way that any judge would approve a viewing of the body...

Pain subsiding...

David has been in drug rehab centers 7 times prior.

Pain subsiding...

Every time, his mother; Sarah has been for weekly visits every time the doors open.

Pain subsiding...

"Momma... I am so sorry."

Pain Gone.

At 8:12 a.m the Franklin County Coroner removed the toilet paper wads from the ears of David James Richardson and pronounced him dead by cause of overdose.

Please touch picture to continue the story.

Every day... the totals of souls lost to this: "Epidemic" are mounting! Please understand that these souls are not being lost to something as simplistic as wanting to get "high"....Often times, it's the need to want to be any other place than "low".

If you have lost someone to the struggle of addiction touch the photo and follow the link.