CHAPTER FIVE
The following is an excerpt from the book Stream of Unconsciousness available on the Amazon and Barnes and Noble websites.

It was early dawn of September 13, 2004 and sleep had still not arrived for me. The previous night had been one of those nights I spent tossing and turning in my bed, unable to sleep. I tried every position imaginable but nothing worked. I incorporated a number of pillows under my neck, arms and legs and in different combinations — all with no success. I tried deep breathing, meditation and even resorted to counting sheep. No luck. There would be no sleep. Like countless other similar nights I simply gave up on the sleep idea and just stared out my bedroom window, desperately watching the night sky as it turned from black to gray, then to orange and finally blue. Morning was coming. Another wasted night.

The ambient sounds of early morning were torturous. The birds would start chirping just before dawn. Their otherwise sweet melodic sounds became a constant reminder of how sick my life had become. It was like they knew I deprived myself of another night of sleep and were mocking me. I began to hate those little bastards.

There were other sounds I also came to despise and dread: newspapers landing with a muffled thud on doorsteps up and down the street; front doors and car doors opening and closing; engines coming to life all throughout the neighborhood; people going to work. I imagined these people as refreshed and ready to take on the day. I hadn’t even slept, and I felt miserable. Somehow, I had to pull it together and limp through my day.

I finally decided to throw in the towel and get up. Sitting up in bed I immediately and overwhelmingly felt the initial damage of another night spent with my new best friends — cocaine and alcohol. These friends always left me with lovely gifts to remember them by: cottonmouth, dehydration and a pounding headache. My head began throbbing almost immediately. My vision was blurred, and I was nauseous.

As was becoming more pathetically usual these days, my first few steps out of bed were tricky. When I got up and started walking, I had to stop in my tracks to regain my balance. Once my bearings were in order I began my journey to the bathroom. Upon awakening, most people head straight for the toilet to take a leak. These days I headed straight to the toilet for my own morning ritual: throwing up…..