it’s 10-17 AM, I’m laying in bed, almost unable to use my right arm, WTF happened last night, I can remember most of it, I have around 15 to 17 stitches in my chest, I feel that I’m in really still strong pain killers. I remember I was in the bar on my way to the restroom to pee and then I suddenly felt into the ocean, I don’t know if I cut myself with a wooden board or with the boat propellers, after that my friends pulled me out of the water and suddenly I was in the island nursery surrounded by my friends, nurses, doctors, police, military, the owner of the bar where I “work”, the sweet khmer boy that works with us, blood all over me, shaking like crazy, they start stitching me up, it hurts like crazy. I can handle pain very well, physical pain but this was mostly a pain of if I want to be there and alive or I would’ve prefer to just died in the water at the moment I fell down. Cops start asking questions, what happened, somebody pushed you? How did you end up like this? Where’s your passport? What’s your passport number? Fuck them. I’ll help the people that’s trying to help me, the paramedics, the doctors, especially most of all my friends, One of them came to check on me and ask me if I needed some food and brought me some. Keeps impressing me that a lot of people that care about you it’s not people you grew up with, it’s people that you have only spend hours, days, weeks, months with them and that’s it. They’ll help you in whatever way they can. It’s an international family.
I wish I was dead right now and didn't have to deal with all that’s coming from this. At least I got this girl to look forward to, 19 days and we will be together. I just don't want to fuck it up. And then after her what? She will be gone back to The Netherlands and what will I do? What if it doesn’t work? Why am I so stupid and fucked up that I can’t never learn from my mistakes and keep running away from them.
I wish this was a fucking novel but no, it’s my real life, it’s what I deal with everyday. I’m an alcoholic, addicted to women, to drugs, to pushing my body to the limit.
I do have friends, they’re figuring out a way of helping me out of this one, they're sending me to the mainland tomorrow to a proper hospital so I can get real stitches, not fucking fishing cord.
One of them is in the corner of my bed cutting MDMA so we can sell and make some money to pay for whatever the medical bills will be. I have to stop with this death wish I think I have.
