The Boy who died of DRUGS
He was leaning because of weakness, it seemed like he could not even carry his own weight over his feet. He was looking everywhere and was scratching his hands with fear of not getting the only thing that helped him to forget the reality. I could see the life seeping underneath his feet. ‘He was so ashamed’, I wonder he couldn’t have the courage to face his reflection in the mirror. He was pale and in pain. It’s difficult to determine whether the pain was because of drugs, or because of his father who blamed him for just being his son. By looking at his forlorn situation I knew in my gut he will die soon, not only because of drugs but because of the fact that the light of clinging to life had faded in his eyes.
When two days later the news came out that he had died, people addressed his death as “That junky had died. He had it coming”. We all have it coming but too much busy to hinder. People split in a number of opinions on this matter trying the advocacy to prove that they are right, and yet they also consider the decision to attend the funeral of his pathetic life really important.
While people are figuring things out, Family is troubled by the thought of how are they going to pay for his funeral. The only person I heard crying was his sister. She was crying and saying “It wasn’t the time for you to leave. For whom I will care and worry now? ” The so-called respected ladies of the community were looking at her and whispering why was she crying over such a useless asset of her life who was nothing but a shame to their family. But they didn’t know she was crying for the person she protected from the hatred of her father, for the person for whom she opened the door secretly in the darkness passed mid-nights, when he was so high and trembling and when she took him to bed he looked at her smiling and said “sister you don’t have to I am nothing but a woodworm who is eating itself alive I am not far away from eating my heart…ummm” and passed out. She was crying over the loss of the brother. She talked about the things she couldn’t discuss with anybody else.
The silence of people on the funeral was just a pause for the sake. People talk, that’s what they always do. He’s gone and might not be remembered by anyone else but the one sister who is going to remember him as a lesson she has learned that would going to last for the rest of her life. For others, his grave is just another stone but for her, it’s a place where a son that she hadn’t given birth to, but raised is resting. He is away from this world of voice he is now another story of another world.
What we can take from this tragedy is that drug is just a piece of physical evidence for people like him dying no it’s because of the fear to live a life that resembles the one they have seen.
When two days later the news came out that he had died, people addressed his death as “That junky had died. He had it coming”. We all have it coming but too much busy to hinder. People split in a number of opinions on this matter trying the advocacy to prove that they are right, and yet they also consider the decision to attend the funeral of his pathetic life really important.
While people are figuring things out, Family is troubled by the thought of how are they going to pay for his funeral. The only person I heard crying was his sister. She was crying and saying “It wasn’t the time for you to leave. For whom I will care and worry now? ” The so-called respected ladies of the community were looking at her and whispering why was she crying over such a useless asset of her life who was nothing but a shame to their family. But they didn’t know she was crying for the person she protected from the hatred of her father, for the person for whom she opened the door secretly in the darkness passed mid-nights, when he was so high and trembling and when she took him to bed he looked at her smiling and said “sister you don’t have to I am nothing but a woodworm who is eating itself alive I am not far away from eating my heart…ummm” and passed out. She was crying over the loss of the brother. She talked about the things she couldn’t discuss with anybody else.
The silence of people on the funeral was just a pause for the sake. People talk, that’s what they always do. He’s gone and might not be remembered by anyone else but the one sister who is going to remember him as a lesson she has learned that would going to last for the rest of her life. For others, his grave is just another stone but for her, it’s a place where a son that she hadn’t given birth to, but raised is resting. He is away from this world of voice he is now another story of another world.
What we can take from this tragedy is that drug is just a piece of physical evidence for people like him dying no it’s because of the fear to live a life that resembles the one they have seen.
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