Standing in the central stall of the Kuala Lumpur International T2 downstairs toilets, I pulled the overguaged needle out of my left ass cheek, fresh from injecting my last dose of illegally smuggled liquid narcotics, blood splattering on my hand and running in small rivulets down my leg. I didn’t care, and wiped it casually on my black t-shirt knowing it couldn’t be seen by anything but ultraviolet light.
The needle had been frantically procured just recently from the Airport nurse station just moments before, after several trips between the 2 airport pharmacies and the emergency nurse station, with some apparently semi-plausible diabetic narrative.
The needle gauge was shockingly too large, and I knew it would be painful, but i didn’t care.I wanted to die, my soul was in existential bankruptcy, i couldn't feel my hollow shell and had no reason to live.
I had just missed my connecting flight, lost my wallet, had $12 USD in the bank, 3% battery on my Phone, no charger, and anyone who had previously respected me as an award winning CEO and family man i was far too proud to call given the situation i had put myself in, they wouldn’t believe it if i told them - i didn’t believe it myself.
Standing casually in this executive bathroom stall at KL airport, executive bag full of tech, notebooks and medications in front of me, the Japanese travelling salaryman in the next stall was completely unaware of the chaos occurring beside him.
This situation was frighteningly metaphorical of what the majority of what my life had represented in an increasingly dysfunctional way, the chaos within - hidden in plain sight and so unexpectedly unobservable to all but the closest of "normal" people in my world, of which there were a scant few remaining.
I took another swig directly from the Liter bottle of Jonny Walker Black in front of me and turned through the few possible ways in which i could die that were swimming in my head, and a Malaysian death sentence for illegal substances did involve the least amount of personal decision at that point in time, so i was completely unflummoxed by the pain and blood.
There was absolutely zero reason to go on and no possible solution to any problems, but i did have a highly potent yet rapidly diminishing supply of oxycodone, diazepam and amphetamines and they would need to be quickly consumed before time ran out.
That big bottle of Jonny Walker was also there with all of his brothers in arms standing tall right behind him at every airport duty free and corner store world wide, ever ready to fill the never ending hole addiction had made in my life.
This seemed just enough to lubricate the insanity and placate my bankrupt soul and fuel me to put one foot in front of the other to step out of the bathroom stall and continue on until this newfound high of pain, chaos, rebellion and substance fueled madness and relief would start to wear off and the abyss would return.
If the past 7 years were anything to go by, it wouldn’t be very long.
