What a great way to spend your 50th Birthday; sitting in a pokey alley situated in the heart of Melbourne. Gazing up at the Flinders Street clock tower a flock of birds appear, they dance in a beautiful array, free and full of glory. I feel envious here I am trapped in a body where I don't belong, I want to be a bird; I want to fly away and never look back. I've made a lot of wishes in my life but never have they become a reality. The clock strikes 8 o'clock, the aroma of coffee and stream of telephone rings fill the air. It's been nearly two weeks since I had my last hit, the more I think about it the more my body wants it, needs it. My stomach rumbles, it's been 3 days since I've eaten. The smell of the fresh bakery near by excites me; my stomach gives a loud grumble like a crack of thunder in the pitch-black sky. I stare at the $20 I have, how can my life be dependent on a piece of paper. It angers me, the need for drugs becomes stronger, my mind overpowers my stomach, and the battle has been won. Using the pay phone and spare 20 cents I call up Tommy my long time drug dealer, I remember it like yesterday when we took our first hit together. "Tommy? Is that you?" I could barely understand him; his voice was raspy and weak. "Mate, I need a hit, meet at the usual place?" .
"Hey man, look I don't do that stuff anymore, to risky. Look here's the number of another guy he just started in the business and if you tell him you know me I'm sure he'll give you a discount." Tommy proceeded to tell me his phone number and immediately hung up. With the chance of a discount I rang straight away with no questions asked, on the other end was a young uni student who sounded new to this. With little chitchat we organized a place and a time and agreed on $12. With a smile on my face I left the phone booth, maybe wishes were about to come true.
I entered a small park in the city no wider than my small pokey alleyway, eating a muffin I had got from 711.