Spiraling out of Control: A Halloween Story

I should really get up, right? Talk? All it takes is some focus. I should do it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen if I screw up here? Nevermind. Don’t think about that. Instead, I need to just sit here and relax. Listen to these people. Just being here is enough for today, right? I sigh. Yeah, I think. For the moment, I don’t need to share. Don’t have anything to share. Don’t need to. I mean, it’s not like something’s going to go to shit here. I smile slightly and relax some as a beautiful young man that I’ve never seen before walks to the podium in the front of the hall.

“Okay, so this is the first time I’m doing this in a long time, so I’m sorry about anything I do weird or wrong. I’m Alex, and I’m an addict. I really needed to get that off my chest. Breathe. So, I thought I was coping with it pretty well, but then everything sort of flared up a couple weeks ago, and so I came here.” His voice feels strong as I listen. His eyes, enrapturing. Almost… nevermind. I make sure to breathe deeply, keep myself grounded.

“Hello, Alex,” we all say to him. Or some variation. I always stick with hello, but to each their own. Some give welcome, some congratulate strength, some just greet like me.

As though an afterthought, Alex adds, “This goes without saying but please don’t leave while I’m talking.” An odd thing to say, but it doesn’t matter much to me. It’s not like I have much of anywhere to go right now. He starts his story. “It all restarted back when I lost my job. It was a few days ago, and they had completely valid reasons for firing me.”

“You see, I was working for one of those call centers, trying to elicit purchases of some garbage product, as one does. Wasn’t glorious work, but it pays the bills, and that’s all I really cared about. I needed to pay my bills, or else I knew I’d fall again. But, I’m not a very persuasive person, not when I’m clean, so I wasn’t very good at my job. I was just another asshole making a couple of calls, earning just enough to get by. When calls came for budget cuts, I wasn’t at the top of their list, but I was pretty damned close. So I was let go. That’s what they call it. Not fired, let go.” We nod along. I mean, we all have stories not too far off from this fellow’s. I know I do. He seems to take a moment to breathe. Like this is fresh on his mind. Like it’s verging on too much.

After a moment, he sighs, smiles ever so slightly, and continues. “So, I had no job, and rent was due. How else was I going to pay rent, right? I didn’t want to move, I like it here too much. There’s so many people and places and ideas all swirling around at once. And it was so easy. So I did it. I told him that I’d already paid my rent.” What? I think. Looking around, everyone else seems to be equally confused. As though on cue, he clarifies, “Of course I hadn’t, but that doesn’t matter much. Not when I say it with force. When I do, people don’t just believe it, people know it, they trust it. It sits in their subconscious, forcing them to act accordingly. It’s why, despite my weirdness, you all don’t want to walk out right now. Sorry about that.” He’s right. Not about our reasons for staying. This isn’t the worst story that comes through here. But I don’t want to leave. So maybe his idea isn’t that ridiculous. I catch myself before I chuckle. Of course it isn’t real, but I can’t laugh at his belief. That would be rude.

He continues, “In any case, that was the start. One little lie, a white one. I defended it to myself, saying it was the only way to keep me mostly clean. One little fuck up meant little compared to me being out on the streets, but I knew that was only an excuse. I had reawakened a darkness inside of me, and it wanted to get out and have fun. But, like me, my monster is smart. It knew any big thing would spark my notice and ire. So, all it did was the small shit. Pay for meals without paying. Pay for rent with a word. Get free drinks when I needed to drown my sorrows for being broke and unemployed.” He stops himself. As though he is deciding how in depth to go into his using of whatever he’s avoiding talking about.

After a shorter pause than I expect, he gets back to his story. “It continued like that for a few weeks. Doing the small stuff that I would notice, but could forgive. But once I’ve started using, it’s so damned hard to stop. Suddenly, that bar fight that was about to brew was over because the brawny guy accidently cut his own hand off. That mugger gave his target all his ill gotten gains and turned himself in, crying about wetting the bed. The homeless person, struggling to survive in the rain, was let into the nice apartment he used to sleep under. That is the next phase. Insistence that using can be good, for me, and for the world. I wouldn’t want to stop using, after all, now I was a hero, right?” Alright, that is insane. I mean, the details. The overall story, sure, but hand cutting off and the mugger thing? Clearly in this dude’s head. And he’s running longer than he probably should. Thinking about it, I don’t know. There’s something about the guy, I don’t really want to stop him. I mean, the story is clearly not true, but it’s interesting at the very least.

Alex continues, “But I never wanted to be a goddamned hero, and neither does my darker side. It was just a way to keep my moral side from reigning myself in. Then, the problems really began. After it had seeped in so thoroughly that I could barely tell when I was using and when I was talking normally. Only then did it begin to cause its own brand of chaos.”

“To understand what was about to happen, you’ve got to understand how me and my impulses are related. You see, I’d never really been able to control my impulses, not originally. Whenever I said something too hard, believed my statement too much, or wanted something to be true, it just became so. No control, no rituals, no weird phrases, it just was. Eventually, I found that apathy is the key. As long as I remained relatively apathetic to my surroundings, I could stave off my own nature, my dark side. This works wonders, normally. Only problem lies in when I drink too much. Drunken Alex, he has no sense of control, no apathy. Normally, this is kept in check by the fact that my darker side doesn’t get a chance to go out enough to be able to do things too dangerous when I get drunk, but now that it was almost a regular occurrence, my drinking became a real problem.” Itching my head, I’m confused. AA is down the hall on Tuesdays. Maybe he just needs a meeting right now, but still, kinda rude. Not that I’m going to stop him while he speaks. Crazy fiction is interesting enough.

“I don’t remember much of what happened. I was in Baltimore, with some friends, or people who thought they were my friends at least. We were drinking up a storm. I blacked out around the second bar. At that point, I’d gotten the first bar to close early because they were giving out shots, and no one remembered my face. They just remembered some weird white dude came in with a bunch of other people, paid for everyone in the bar to have shots, then invited everyone to follow him on the crawl. Of course, in case you couldn’t tell by now, I didn’t actually pay for those shots that everyone was certain I’d paid for, but only the books would be able to confirm that.” Again with his insistence on not having money. From his clothes and his everything, he has enough, clearly, but it’s like he pretends not to? And with the story, it’s kinda weird.

Then comes the part of Alex’s story that we can all see coming. The rock bottom, out of the big binge. We’ve all got a story like his. “In any case,” he says, “When I woke up in the morning, I was naked, in a strange and empty motel room, surrounded by empties. From the pictures, me and an extremely large group of hangers-on came up to this place, and partied it down, then I passed out and they drew on me before leaving. I turned on the TV to see what had happened. It turns out, one of the last things I’d said to that group of over a hundred people was something along the lines of, ‘Let’s all go tear this whole mother-fucker down.’ I knew that, because on the news, there was riots in the streets today as a bunch of drunk and raving lunatics, some of whom I recognized, had destroyed the Baltimore City Courthouse, as well as several municipal buildings, with their own bare hands. And true to my usual form, none of them remembered my face, my name, anything about my existence.” He pauses. I remember that riot. So, he and his started it? Cool, also bad, but cool. Except, not cool, because he didn’t mean it. He was using at the time, both with what he’s insisting is his actual addiction and his binge drinking. So decidedly uncool. But that riot was like yesterday or maybe two days ago? Anyways, his story must be coming to an end.

Alex finishes his story. “I, of course, was horrified by what had happened. Those of you that follow the news know that riot was yesterday. I immediately came back to DC and looked for the next meeting. I needed to talk, to get support. Back in New York, I knew NA had always gotten my back, helped me stay strong and find a way. But, I don’t know whether there is a way forward. First, obviously, I need to cut back on the beer. But, more importantly, I need a job. I know I need a job.” He seems stuck. He may have been a part before, but he’s not ready right now. He lets out a big sigh. If accidently starting a riot isn’t his rock bottom, I don’t know what is, but he isn’t ready. Shaking his head, Alex adds on calmly yet forcefully, “Nevermind. Stay where you are, and once I leave, forget about me. And everything that just happens. You don’t know where the time went, but assume someone told a boring story and left.” Everyone looks at him confused as he walks through the chairs towards the rear doors. No one moves. Why would we. No one gets up. I’m not going to, but shouldn’t someone? It feels kinda weird to just watch a guy leave. Alex opens up the door and steps through. The door shuts.

I take a breath, turning back towards the front. Whatever was so interesting about the door, isn’t anymore. Probably someone hot walking out. Happens sometimes. I should really get up, right? Talk? All it takes is some focus. I should do it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen if I screw up here? Nevermind. Don’t think about that. Instead, I need to just sit here and relax. Listen to these people. Just being here is enough for today, right? I sigh. Yeah, I think. For the moment, I don’t need to share. Don’t have anything to share. Don’t need to. I mean, it’s not like something’s going to go to shit here. I smile slightly and relax as a young woman I don’t recognize walks up to the podium.