The following pages are what I had left on my Safari browser before I put my Mac to sleep:
Those would have been the last pages I'd have ever browsed for the rest of my life, had I not just woken up after passing out for 6 hours.
From what, you may ask. Well, I think we know the answer to that one. Hence my conscious decision:
Never again.
I know I've said it before, but this is it this time. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
I thought I was dying. Right before I passed out I was on the phone with Tim. I texted him while he was still at work and he called me to check what the emergency was. Apparently I sounded like I thought it was the last time I'd ever talk to him. I truly thought it was. I had to hang up because the attempts I made to talk caused more nausea.
It all started out with me wanting to see Twilight with Richie at Metrotown. We decided we would blaze up first. Two tokes later I'm hacking like crazy and I vomit a little on the sidewalk. We laugh. I'm pretty embarrassed and I know something's not right. I know this feeling. It's the feeling I had after Shrooms, and the same feeling I had when I blazed while on penicillin well over a month ago.
I needed water pretty bad so we went back to his car in the underground parking lot. We never saw Twilight. Instead, we saw my entire stomach content splattered all over the concrete, spread over two parking stalls.
I was so scared. I wanted to go home and be in my own bed and sleep it all off. But there was the risk of not having anyone to help me if I started throwing up again. Knowing that I almost choked on chunks of pizza and could've died had Richie not been there to help me, I took that risk just to be in the comfort of my own home.
I got in my pajamas and tried to clean myself up a bit. I stood in front of the bathroom sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like death. My lips were strangely really red, and that was before I started vomiting blood. I don't know where the blood came from exactly, but I suspect that once everything else was out of my stomach, something had to go.
The water from the sink was loud enough to hinder the sounds of me choking and vomiting my own blood. My parents were just downstairs. Believe me, I wanted to ask them for help but I was too scared they'd find me out. So I had to suffer it out on my own.
I got in bed. I couldn't stop shaking. This is it, I thought. They probably won't find me till the afternoon, 'cause they'll just assume I was sleeping in. And when they'd find me, they'd find my room looking perfectly fine, with no signs of a struggle, except for the limp, dead Dorothy in this bed.
What's done is done. And I'm done with that stuff for good.
I am grateful to be alive, still. And I'm too afraid to fall asleep.
Dorothy Joyce Chiong
1 comment:
you promised me you wouldn't die.
DJC, i'd be lost without you.
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