Benzo-Brain-Injury vol.1

Author: Gay Retard

vol. 1:
jail

It felt as though giant, whispy, grey spider legs were reaching out for me every time I closed my eyes. It was my first time being put into 24 hour lockup / kept in police custody and it was also the first time I had a panic attack so bad that I experienced open-eye hallucinations (NOT counting a terrifying drug induced delirium, that’s a story for another time)

it still feels like I lost a lifetime in those 24hours spent screaming and crying in an uncomfortably lit and claustrophobically small cell, alone. lockup in Canada is essentially solitary confinement. The cell itself was entirely filthy. It’s walls were probably once a yellowish white, but had pinken’d with the presence of years worth of bacteria, accumulated by thousands of criminals (or more likely hundreds of re-offenders) and me, a tiny, vulnerable faggot coming off of a huge bender.

I was at all times unbearably cold, having been arrested and taken from my home at around 7pm in a t shirt and shorts while being criminally underweight from unemployment and addiction. I cried, screamed, begged and was ignored for hours, only asking the piggies to provide me with a blanket. when that didn’t work, I used my socks to clog the toilet and flood the cell, insuring that someone would at least come LOOK at me.

I was finally given a blanket and moved to a different, equally as filthy cell. Although I was now barefoot and would stay that way for the duration of my time in lockup. (you win some you lose some) I at least had a blanket to keep myself warm I thought. jail in Canada is fucking cold -” yup, it’s about as cold as it gets”- my faceless, court-appointed legal aid phone call later told me. “dude, fuck off” I thought

overnight in jail I slept like a baby. I had been blackout drunk when arrested; having 12 beers in 3 hours and weighing not more than 150lbs will tend to do that. no, the terror came later, when I woke up. The jail cell had been outfitted with the exact same kind of fluorescent light fixture as my local psych hospital’s room which immediately triggered me. it’s slanted, silver metal frame and clear plastic casing casted no shadows, but was just bright enough to burn my dehydrated eyes out, even when I tried keeping them closed.

the physical sensation was tense and EXTREMELY uncomfortable. my dehydrated body laid out across a cold concrete slab which itself was coated with thick, enamel-like paint that was chipped in some parts and had been filled in with the dirt of other bodies. as I sobered up to my situation, I entered a frenzied panic like which I had never experienced before. standing not more than 5’6 (yes, I’m a smaller build, unconventionally cute gay retard) my blanket was still JUST enough so that when I tried to wrap it around myself, it would expose a different part of my body to the cold, filth covered slate. dare to tug at one side to cover my face and block the light, and my bare feet were exposed. cover my arms, and the small of my back would tense in reaction to exposure from the cold, punishing concrete. I settled for using my sweaty, stale t-shirt to cover my head and tried curling into a ball, constantly shifting positions never quite able to find one that I could stay warm or comfortable in.

disoriented and coming off of a 4 day bender; when the guard brought a microwaveable breakfast burrito to my cell I knew it had to be sometime in the morning. I took advantage of this overheated microwaved warmth like a hot water bottle, keeping it wrapped in it’s paper towel, placing the burrito on top of my stomach and trying to absorb every last bit of radiation it exerted. I was also hesitant to consume it, because I am still 90% sure a cop jizzed into it before bringing it to me. (I might be a gay retard, and have guzzled a fair amount of cum in my quarter-century on this planet, however being force fed pig semen is NOT something I enjoy doing.)

defeated and hungry, I ate the burrito in small bites after it had cooled down but before it had congealed, “I’m going to at least TRY and enjoy this” I thought. the joke being on me little respite was to be had. the terror soon returned. I had not taken my Seroquel for about a week, and was in the direct grip of full-blown benzo withdrawal symptoms (I had been drinking at first to curb these symptoms, then to excess)

I became disoriented as to my situation and whereabouts, and being given no information by a despondent police prescience had led me to think at one point that I was at the hospital under psychiatric “care”, I sat up and rocked myself from side to side, being stationary and dehydrated had caused my body to accumulate a strange numbness in my skin, something I’ve only ever felt during a bad comedown off of strong LSD. sitting up now and still crying, I faced the cell door and closed my eyes. now in a state of complete panic and exhaustion, when I opened my eyes I beheld a vision which made me envy the blind.

gigantic, grey, papery spider legs had begun to creep underneath my cell door, growing ever closer to my exposed, numb feet. my enthusiastic crying had bellowed into shrieks of absolute horror. I couldn’t look away or close my eyes, fearing that then this spider outside would actually be able to TOUCH me. frozen in the grips of heartbreaking fear, I was suffering a complete mental break to a point my already mentally ill and drug-addled mind had never thought imaginable. my memory gets faded here, possibly dissociating to protect my own psyche.

I calmed down and sort of came-to when an officer had arrived at my cell door to let me know that my court-appointed legal aide would be speaking with me via jail phone. of course this came -conveniently- as I was in the middle of taking an already demeaning jail-cell shit. that burrito came out smelling the same way it went in, just to paint you a picture.

with my hands smelling like shit (jail cell included exactly 6 squares of single-ply toilet paper and no soap) I had been tele-connected to my release hearing with legal aide and crown magistrate (lawyer and judge for non-canadians) and was told that I was being let out in a matter of hours under conditional release. the police had booked me for an assault, but no charges were ever actually laid and I luckily have resumed life with NO criminal record. that’s right guys, I was totally innocent!
yeah, right.

end of vol.1

that’s alll for tonight,

currently staying with my bipolar mom/ little bitch stepdad and going thru polydrug/ alcohol withdrawal at the same time. I start treatment (rehab for you Americans) in 2 weeks and honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it through until then. planning on re-watching august underground’s penance tonight (thanks EUM!) after I finish writing this.

vol. 2 of my retarded and gay story will be a flashback to another, intense story of induced psychosis simply titled

“the time I took 700mg of Benadryl on purpose, or A BLOOD-SOAKED RAT SNAKE IS MAKING NOISE IN MY WINDOW”

thanks EUM.com!