Regardless of her insignificance, a couple of people asked about Whitney. Enjoy or whatever.
Let’s be honest about Whitney. The reason that we don’t meet her is because she’s a representation of a shop. She has a monopoly on their lives because they all crossed a line that they cannot uncross. They made a transition of alcohol to weed to mdma to cocaine and she’s been there every step of the way.
She’s almost the crazy aunt of this dis-functional family. Every corner they turn in this town has her touch. In a way she is a lover that they cannot quite distance from. They all made love to her product and her memory is branded across every place they’ve been. You can forget a kiss or a handshake, but when you ravish someone on the kitchen table, on the living room floor, even in the street at night and people were close by, you have little more trouble when that’s your environment.
I don’t want you to meet Whitney for the same reason they don’t meet Whitney. She is not wanted, but she will find her way in if given the chance.
Okay it’s actually a little more difficult than that. Whitney on her own is a white wash. She is hiding something as all addicts are. Not a thing that she’s done but a thing she is unable to do. Early on in her life she had a strong desire to have children. Strong enough to make her irresponsible. She left school at 16 and never went back. She had met a man (19 years old) who had a job, a small but respectable apartment and who had decided that work was more important than collage. It was perfect, they could just continue with things how they were without fear. At least she could, but at 19 for a man to have his whole life remain the same is a terrifying concept, it wasn’t long before he wanted to change things, with her of course but she resisted any kind of change. Because she wanted a baby and the happily ever after. Internships, training, moving for better work more opportunity. That didn’t fit her lifestyle. If he was so busy, how would they find time to raise a child? He had to work but not too much.
Her resistance destroyed them. He took a stand, changed everything. And then it was just her. Her and her needs, needs so strong that it could rip through her body. Tear her to pieces. And in all the mess, her father died.
It started pretty innocent. Her friend gave her a muscle relaxer. She said it would help her sleep. It wasn’t long until she needed it more often. Talking to a doctor seemed a little rash, besides they wouldn’t really understand what she’s going through. So she started paying her friend. But it wasn’t muscle relaxers anymore, it was sleeping pills and pain killers and whatever else she could get her hands on. It didn’t feel like losing control, it felt like making life easier, easier enough to make it through the day. As all things do, it reached a climax, a point where it either stopped or needed to be more effective.
From this point on its a slippery slope. From an outside perspective, it’s so easy to see where she went wrong. You’re sad, do something about but don’t do the drugs. From the inside, it doesn’t work that way. The line between functional and dysfunctional appears so thin. There is a massive community who condone recreational drug use, you see it in movies, television and even in our social network and when surrounded by enough people who see you as cool, hardcore, funny and smart in your drugged haze, why would you believe anything else? She crosses that line and believes disfunction is function.
What happens when the drugs run out? Fortunately for Whitney, the drugs she needs can also be sold and other things too, suppliers are difficult to get a hold of but not rare. She became a business and in business there are no friends, just company.
She does it so well. She makes broken look beautiful, or are those words filtered through a drugged haze.
As if needle holes were teeth. Razor sharp, she must ask permission to pass the threshold.
Be weary and chose which ones to let in.
In all her apparent joy, whitney’s world is two legs that cannot stop running. A hand grenade on the event horizon of a black hole. Both forever exploding and fizzled out never able to re-shine.