Today my partner is sad.

His best friend confided in him with his current rehab treatment. He is addicted
to meth. The same crystal meth my prima used to deal as a chiquilla in love with the
money and not the man that got her into selling. A drug so powerful that it scratches at
your brain and diminishes your ability to feel pleasure. A drug that feels good, good
because nothing else feels good anymore. Good because we live in such a fucked up
world. A world where getting high is so fucking delicious. So delicious like the
hundreds my cousin used to count on the bed before hiding the money under the
colchon. So delicious my tia went into her room and had a bite. So delicious I envied the
beautiful home they lived in. But nada dura para siempre. Eventually the swat team
arrived and my cousins flushed crystals down the toilet. One by one they came out the
front door with their hands up. Brown people with their hands up. Guilty was charged
Anthony Puga when he went to court vs. The United States of America. The same USA
who fed methamphetamines to its soldiers during WW2, keeping the drug inside their
military bases and somehow that shit got out into our streets. Streets in Southern
California, Streets in Chicago, Streets in Texas and dont forget about Germany and
Japan. Let me remind you that this drug makes you feel so good. So good unlike the way
this USA makes us feel as brown and black people. Or hold up, does the USA make you
feel good?

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Luz Magdaleno Flores is a Chicana storyteller, layout editor, content creator and photographer. Her palabras bailan entre english y spanish much like the duality of her identity. Current projects include co-hosting Radio Luzifer, a bilingual horror podcast, and editing for Brown and Proud Press.

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