Greg sat on the toilet, but he was not performing a bodily function. He was slouched over in his ratty blue bathrobe. The strings of his robe belt trailed down the sides of the throne, and lay limply on the ancient bathroom rug. The bottle was still in his hand. After the awful discovery, Greg had slumped to the closed lid of the toilet and hadnt budged since. The medication container was so small, it weighed next to nothing in Gregs grip. How strange that such a small object could hold the means to destroy a life. There were so many addicts out there too, probably. The pills amounted to basically legalized heroin. There were most likely thousands, if not millions of people ingesting this pseudo opiate on a daily basis. Some might even be functioning addicts, if they have a job and the means to support their habit. At least, until the addiction takes firm hold. And then, where would those people be? In the same dire straits that Donny was now in.
Greg didnt know shit about addiction. His casual observations of the various bums surrounding his establishment seemed to reveal something. He thought he understood what the drug did to people, how it changed them, and ripped out part of their functioning humanity. But Greg himself had never been addicted. He had never shared in that lifestyle of fiending for a fix, or the terrible withdrawl that would follow if needs were not met. Greg could only hazard a guess at Donnys current state of mind. The drugs swimming through Donnys system might make him a different person altogether. After all, werent we all just a mixture of chemicals anyway? A few more dabs of certain proteins or liquid, and our whole biology could be thrown outta whack. If someone was born with a defficiancy, we call them chemically imbalanced, right?
Perhaps thats why Donny was so quiet. That constant surge of euphoria which came with prolonged drug abuse mightve burned poor Donny out. Without the drug to supplement the bodys processes, his happiness might take a blow because Donny doesnt have the ability to naturally produce those substances we need to be happy.
The worst part of all was the fact that Donny had stolen. Greg knew Donny must feel a tremendous sense of guilt at having done this. But that doesnt change what happened. Greg must now question Donnys motives, and be wary from now on. It was unfortunate, but trust is something built up over time. The unproven foundation Donny had built was now torn down. Greg would have to start from scratch when he and Donny meet nextIf they meet at all. Donny could literally be anywhereA cruel joke arose in Gregs troubled thoughts: Whats the best part about dating a homeless girl? At the end of the date, you can drop her off anywhere.
Greg decides right then that he will not continue to spurn Donny, or produce negative thoughts regarding this. It would be too easy to write Donny off as just another homeless junkie, someone who was a degenerate, someone who would never amount to anything. Donny was not like thatNot completely, anyway. Donny had skills that were revealing themselves in due time. There was still a chance Donny could emerge from the streets, and be victorious. Hadnt Greg also been in rough times as of late? Of course he had.
Greg flashes back to that moment on the street, when he first interacted with Donny again. Greg had been a wreck. He had sat on the curb, at a contorted angle because of his ass wound, and cried his fool head off. Greg had felt caught in the grip of some all-emcompassing nightmare horror. The panic attacks Greg had were a symptom of his predicament. The recall of the past month rushes through Greg in a terrible frenzy. But, at the end of Gregs memories, here he sits, in a better financial position. Here he sits, ahead of his previous schedule of bankruptcy and disaster. Here he sits, ready to take on the worldHere Greg sits
Greg hoists himself to his feet using the counter for leverage. He supposed the next goal should be to lose about 50 pounds from his chunky body. It was upsetting for Greg to always make such sounds when moving around. Even bending over required a grunt of effort. Greg returned the bottle back to its previous dwelling inside the medicine cabinet. As he headed off to bed, his thoughts continued to stray to other matters, and random ideas. With no way to reach Donny, Greg had little choice in how things played out. Thinking about it constantly would only guarantee more stress and worry to contend with. Sleeplessness and insomnia were sure to follow from there. Greg didnt need that. Instead, Greg needed to focus his energy elsewhere.
He would not pass judgment on Donny. Sure, the bum had stolen from him, taking at least $200 worth of pills. But addiction was a disease, so Greg heard before. Donny was sick and needed help. Donny didnt need another individual looking down at him, with no aid to offer. When a man is fighting tooth and nail just to hang on, it only takes a miniscule effort to help remedy the situation. And a small amount of discouragement can make that tentative grip come loose. No, there wouldnt be nay-sayings from Greg. Society had kicked Donny around enough. All Greg could do now was maybe say a prayer and wish his misguided friend well.
Goodnight Donny, wherever you are. Keep your head up, and stay safe, dudeAnd with that, Greg drifted off into a peaceful doze.