One day I woke up and the bed was completely saturated. The linen was soaked from my perspiration. As I pressed down onto the damp soggy mattress with my two palms, the juices of human sweat had exuded from the thick Ikea fabric. It had covered my fingertips as I pushed myself up onto my feet. The shape of the wet patch had spread across the linen. It was bold on the blue cotton-polyester sheet; an outline of a wild animal. I had observed it without guilt. I had it coming. I was mentally prepared for the hot and cold sweats. The moment the plane went airborne from Sydney to Singapore, there was no escaping from the rough sleepless nights and the mood swings were going to be consistent. Rehab never was appealing to me. Rehab clinics are not the only solution to cleanse out the junk nor cure an addition problem of somewhat. The only solution for me to clean up my life was to leave the country and change the surrounding environment that will cease the access to feed the daily itch.
Every morning I looked at the wet patch on the bed from a short distance and noticed that the shape of the soaked animal was in a different form. The maid from Manila had noticed it too and referred the stained as animal from Africa, "It looks like a Lion today". She continued to perform her role as the housekeeper and would kindly change the bed sheets without any hesitation. The maid was well prepared for my withdrawal. A close friend who I had known for many years, had warned her before my arrival in the cleanest city in Asia. After she had left the bedroom, I would lock myself in the washroom and spend thirty minutes or more inside. Avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I was absolutely ashamed of my appearance. There was puffiness under the eyes and the skin was very pale. I constantly felt nausea but nothing solid would exile from the rotten stomach and feed into the bowl. First, the nasty cough would bring up the mixed fluid of green and yellow bile then followed by thick black tar due to years of inhaling substance of abuse and after the forceful expulsion in the windowless tiled room I would feel better for the worse. My stomach had been eating itself and it cramped up tightly. Blood bleed out from the nose, routinely in the evenings. The tissue inside my nostrils had thinned down to its final layer from the damage of the great white zombie dust.
In the hot and humid weather, I made my way to the heartbeat of the island, Orchard Road; the retail heaven to every shopper’s paradise. “I’ve got to myself keep busy” I would say to myself every day and explore the Lion City to keep my mind active and not over think about my weakness. A flock of people had emerged on the famous road like ants crawling in an unsynchronised pattern. A trigger of anxiety rushes over me and it made me feel very uncomfortable. I felt the urge to escape and hide in a shaded corner. Desperate to smoke a cigarette and calm the nerves down but it is forbidden to smoke in the main areas in the country. A man accidentally bumps directly into my shoulder as we crossed past each other. The pain began to throb instantly. He had shown no remorse for his action and did not apologies. It fuelled me with vengeance and having all that frustration rumbling inside my head from the cravings and fatigue. I search for every reason to chase him down and give him a good smack or two but I turned around and slowly continued walking down the road away from him, rubbing my shoulder clockwise. The detoxicating withdrawal was en route; stage two. I footslogged until I found a designated smoking area and lit up a tab.
Drugs, drugs and drugs are dangerously fun. The high times are unforgettable and even the bad trips are, at least, a learning experience. An escape from realty for a short amount of time; let the problems fade and enjoy the ride. When I had sex on MDMA, it was the feeling like it's never going to end in the best possible way; a marathon race to reach the climax without a fail. And the cocaine delivered a reward feeling to the point of feeling superior and there was a greater level of confidence.
The fondness comes in many different forms and love is never a sure thing. Over the years, the intake grew larger and every paycheque went to fund the next score. Living a life with very little ambition and hastening my bodies deterioration, my health, and my mind. Until one afternoon, my body went out cold in the middle of the day and just completely shut down, forcing me to hospital. I feared for my life for the first time; the wake up call to my destructive behaviour.
The beauty of the small island, that there were no contacts for to reach out and score a baggy and destroy the plan to my recovery. That was not the only benefit of Singapore; If a person is caught chewing gum without a prescription, it carries the penalty of one year in jail and five thousand dollars fine. Possession of a small amount of drugs is ten years in jail or the death penalty and regular visits to the rattan cane. Singaporeans certainly live in a safe society and the citizens show compassion and respect for the strict law of the criminal punishment. The hash laws persuaded my decision to return to my childhood home and put fear into my eyes; commit to normality.
The warm wind brushed against me like an ambient temperature in an oven as I walked up on a slight slope on Nassim Hill. I ignored the heat as my childhood memories came to play. There was no rush but the heart began to pump harder and heavier as I reclaimed my foot steps on the path that I once walked on for over a decade and I reached to the top of the hill and saw my old apartment. It was still standing strong with new surroundings. It had not aged one bit. She was still as beautiful as I had remembered. Tear drops fell onto the warm pavement but I dried my eyes quickly and pulled myself together before I approached the security guard. He kindly let me through the gate and claimed that he remembered me from when I was a young boy. Excited but nervous, I ambled around the large complex with my emotions rolling like a rollercoaster; sad and happy within the same moment. I played a game in my head to seek out if I could remember the names of the people who lived here and what level they lived on and which building they lived in.
After the hunt, I sat down in the middle of the green field between two big tall buildings and the warm wind brushed up again towards the top of the hill, passing through the Nassim Mansions. The leaves sang and fell in the air, thin and wild. I had always wondered how my life would have panned out if my family had never left Singapore, a chance to grow a little more and maybe avoid the descent into drugs. Like a leaf that refuses to fall from the tree...