Just Say No: SWEARYS TRUE STORY. Dave October 27, 2013 Blogs, Sweary Sweary He twinkled at me from across the room. He was young. He looked trustworthy. He was ginger, for Gods sake. I found myself pouring my heart out to him. Sometimes, I told him, sprawled out on the seat, dabbing at my eyes, Im lying there on the couch, not able to think, not able to talk, not even able to breathe. I just want to die. And it goes on, and on, and Im afraid it will never stop. He nodded. Stupid as it may sound, I really felt like at last Id found someone who understood, someone who wasnt just going to look sympathetic whilst thinking of the football or what kind of bra I was wearing or going to the pub. He was really listening. I remembered the last time Id chanced talking about the incredible pain I was in – the listenee had wondered if I wanted a yogurt. I was at my wits end, lads, I really was. Ive got some stuff here that might help, he said, softly. What? All the pain will just go away. All you have to do is ask. I was aghast. Drugs? Are you talking about drugs? No need to sound so negative! Whatever helps, helps. You have nothing to lose by giving it a try I really dont think so, I said, and I jumped up out of my seat, almost falling over myself. I dont want to get started on that shite. I see what it does to otherwise grand people all over this country. I read, you know. You shouldnt believe everything you read, kid. He laughed. Dont be so naive. Youre in pain. This will cure it. This will make it all better. You really think so? Besides, everyone else is doing it. Everyone. You dont want to be the odd one out, do you? They dont want you to know, the media and all that, but everyone needs a bump to get them through the day. It puts you he shrugged, and twinkled again, at a major disadvantage. Now, you dont want that, do you? Ill tell you what, Ill give you this one for free. You cant say no to that. I hestitated. He smiled. I could see it in his baby blues; he thought he had me. Another customer, another regular to peddle his filth to. But then again, maybe he was right. Maybe I was outdated in my prejudices. If everyone else was doing it Tell me how bad it is again, he whispered. How could anything that gets rid of that be so terrible? You cant breathe, you want to die? Sounds like panic attacks to me! He took up his biro and started scribbling. Ill write you a script. Seriously, anti-depressants are GREAT. But doctor, they seem like you know, a last resort. And there might be hundreds of other things wrong with me. Nah, youre depressed. Everyones depressed! he waved the prescription at me. Take it, he said. Taaaaaaaake it. I took it. I put it in my pocket. I couldnt bring myself to fill it. Just as well, coz later on I was diagnosed with gallstones. Fucking drug pushers, kids. Theyre everywhere. Tweet
