The Dark Leaves of Mint

The last days ae winter drag in n the snow stays until the end ae February. It becomes suhin oppressive after Christmas passes n the tree n the decorations ir aw packed away. The whole place hus the look ae a Christmas card which hus dirtied and faded over time n hus become stained at the edges. Grudgin yellow gritters trundle the streets night after night, their orange lights blinkin against cold sunsets and that quick darkness which prevails by aboot four in the afternoon. They’ve built these grey and brown ice mountains. Brown drifts still stand in mounds at the side ae roads everywhere. Depressin grey streets durin the day turn tae shiny purple n orange wans at night. A’ve been stuck in the hoose mostly cos the bad weather. A’m tryin tae stay back fae cunts who ir takin drugs, that temptation n need tae go backwards n smoke green or gub a few blues tae manage the bad feelings n the boredom.

A knew A wis addicted tae aw that shite but it’s only when yi try tae stop that the monster reveals itself. Then yi realise it’s no gonnae let yi go without a fight. Aw drugs ir addictive, cos they’re a behaviour pattern, a social activity, a copin mechanism n a full time occupation in their procurement n takin. They fill aw yir wakin headspace n even among the jovial depictions ae smokin weed, it’s a fuckin hard wan tae git aff cos it changes the way yi think n feel. It becomes – the normal. It helps yi sleep, dictates yir hunger n libido n everyhin aboot yi. A smoke joints like fags, night n day, sun up tae sundown. A used tae talk aw that pish aboot medicinal benefits n freedom ae choice fur users, but that wis before. There’s nae harmless pastime drugs, nae safe substance abuse. Green n benzodiazepines ir our generation’s heroin. A know that noo. A’ve found oot the hard way.

Comin aff drugs isnae an instantaneous process. Yir short, sharp experience ae withdrawal fades in aboot a week but then the real challenge emerges when yi try tae stay aff long-term. A hud stopped takin them before but A felt different this time. This time hus tae be different. Yi dragged yir full family through the mire every time, cos their hopes, that you’ve finally seen sense, ir carried wae yi alongside the monkey on yir back. They can see it in yir face that yi irnae takin anyhin. Yir skin changes n yir speech n yir attitude tae them n life itself. Every time A wis aff them ma maw wid be happy as fuck n relieved thinkin maybe, just maybe, this is the time. Then there wid be that moment, where the thin margin wid fail. Yi gee in tae temptation n smoke again or take another blue pill or sniff another line. It doesnae matter which, cos true abstinence makes no distinction. Yir thin margin between you n the last time yi used drugs implodes n collapses inwards. Yir back countin seconds n minutes, rather than weeks or months. If that happens it’s fucked. Yi delude yirsel n take them again intermittently n manage it fur a while. Then, yir straight back on the road tae permanent and total addiction where yi take drugs every day n live yir life under their tyranny. The thin margin is aw yi huv. It’s wit yi cling tae when the walls come in around yi n that saves yi when memories ae simpler times usin drugs wae pals come back – or yi get offered suhin by a mate on a bad day n just fur a moment want a guilt-free taste ae oblivion. It doesnae come by the glass. That sacrifice ae the thin margin brings back a tidal wave n sweeps yi right back intae the shite.