Had a weird encounter with Bryan just now. We hardly talk anymore since he’s probably the most absent-minded and unreliable dealer/friend I have.

He wanted ten 30mg Adderalls and I told him I sell ‘em for 10 bucks each. “Do you have the money?” I asked when he arrived at my place an hour late. “No, but I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna trade…”

“For coke? No thanks, Matt and I have shit to do tomorrow early in the morning. Matt has a doctor’s appointment at nine and I’m headed to Columbia to talk about spring registration. Then we’re taking Christopher [our mutual friend Mia’s seven-year-old son] to a dinosaur exhibit at the Rosemont at around 11 o’clock.”

Then I asked Bryan if he had any cash on him at which point he pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills from his pants like a fucking pre-teen sorting out his allowance—the largest bill being a ten. It wasn’t like I didn’t want coke—I fucking love coke—but I had shit to do tomorrow and I really didn’t find it necessary to not get any sleep so I could look like a strung-out piece of shit asshole in front of a kid I care a lot about.

Also, I can’t trust Bryan like I used to. A few times he’d put a lotta cut in what I bought and flat out lied to me when I accused him of using baby powder.

My anger dissipated quickly, though. Bryan looked even slimmer since I last saw him, so I offered him anything to eat in the kitchen. He chose chocolate chip cookies. He didn’t ask for it, but I poured him a tall glass of milk, because everyone knows cookies taste better with milk. Then I packed a bunch of dog treats and food for Lucy and Ethel for Bryan to take home.

It was strange pseudo-parenting a 37-year-old while Matt, 38, was in the bedroom. It was kinda sad, actually, if you consider what a fuck-up I am.

It just sucks, because we were really good friends for such a long time, ya know? We’d brunch, take road trips, fix and sell mopeds, etc. It also sucks ‘cause now that he’s a heroin addict again, I can never even try it now ‘cause all our mutual friends will guilt me to death because they know I’ve seen with my own eyes how Bryan destroyed his life in the last three years.

Fuck.

Anyway, I told Bryan to leave the money with Mia after five ‘cause I was gonna go up to Evanston to visit a couple friends after the Rosemont. If I don’t get that hundred dollars tomorrow, it’s done. It’s over. I swear, it’s over. No more second chances. No more “I’ll pay you back later”s. Nothing. No more.

It’s not like I need the money, I just don’t wanna be lied to by him anymore. I mean, he told me he was gonna sell the ten Addies tonight, so there should be no reason for him to not pay me back tomorrow. Unless, of course, he spends that money on dope.

And of course, I can’t help but think about what Jeffrey once told me about heroin: “it’s like getting a blowjob from God”

This is one of many reasons I don’t wanna be a grown-up.

I wanna be an innocent, untainted child.

I don’t wanna know addiction.

I don’t wanna know betrayal.

I don’t wanna know misery.

All I wanna know is ignorant bliss.