The horrid smell wasted no time waking me up. Having only been in bed two or three hours from a three-day cocaine binge, I forced a thin split between my eyelids to locate the disgusting odor. My eyes struggled to focus through the foggy film while stars and blackout spots danced around my peripheral vision. The nauseating stench and three-day empty stomach forced me to bow over the edge of our broken bed. My throbbing head dangled facing the dusty hardwood floor as I unwillingly burst into a coughing frenzy, resulting in streams of murky mucus bridging the two-foot gap. I felt the blood vessels in my eyes exploding with each weakening grasp for oxygen as the ringing in my ears amplified.
After a few relentless minutes, the stormy seas settled somewhat and I collapsed back into a horizontal position on the bed staring blindly at the ceiling. Wiping my mouth and eyes with trembling hands, I wondered how many more times death would release me. Enfolded tightly in a sheet, I found myself alone. Although extremely weak, I mustered the strength to wrestle myself free of the binding sheet and instantly snapped my head backwards. I had found the origin of the repulsive aroma...my own waste!
Over the past three years, I had lost control of many things; but never had I lost control of my bowels! Mary must have been so sickened and disgusted she left me packaged in my own excrement and urine. Who could blame her? I was committing suicide on the installment plan.
- Mitch Webb, July 2012
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