Midnight Doomer Cruise

Estranged and alone in the Swedish cold, barely awake and a shell of the man he was before everything. His pupils blown wide with a pill bottle rattling in his pocket from the contents and the loose change he had so David could buy himself even just mere scraps of food to keep his weakening body trudging forward.
The junkie struggled to find his way home, his own senses becoming a muddled mess of input to him. 26 years old and babbling into dead air like a child, how embarrassing. Shame didn’t exist in the pulsing heart of David’s euphoric fog, the drugs numbing every last part of him until he felt weightless and like he was on top of the world. Like he had the control over his life, despite knowing he lost it long ago when David’s in his right mind.