  Friday night we got a phone call saying that our old neighbor from the infamous apartments of two years ago had finally OD'ed on heroin.
If you want a little bit more background information on her and the times at the apartments you can go to urlLink http://www.nerdslut.net/articles/articles/jezneighbor.html where I wrote an article about them roughly three years ago. Shonelle was a fairly nice girl, just fucked up in the truest sense of the meaning. She was fundamentally fucked up, her foundation was fucked, her life was fucked, her everything was fucked.
She moved in with Don next door with her 10 month old baby and Don apparently tried like hell to clean her up in the midst of his own dealings with substances, but Shonelle was if nothing else tenacious. She OD'ed in Arby's bathroom one time, hid syringes all over the apartment, bought drugs from the strip club she worked at. And finally after all of their Jerry Springer quarrels and their Maurey Povitch reunions, Shonelle took her baby and moved somewhere down southward where she could inject all the heroin she wanted without worrying about some nagging masochist telling her what to do.
That was I'd say about two years ago. I don't know where her baby went, or if it's still even alive. Maybe she got him high too, you just don't know these things. The strange thing is: I'm not surprised or shocked. In fact, I'm a little smirky that it took her this long, but it's still not news that you wake up and expect that day. I didn't even really know her well. I found how she treated her little baby fucking appalling. She was paper thin with a slightly pretty face, but it was that kind of dreamy naive pretty, not conventional.
She looked more like you would take her home and cover her in blankets while she stared silent ahead than you would pay her to take her clothes off as you watched. She seemed to always have this smile on her face, even when she wasn't fucked up, that signified that she really didn't have a clue, there was no recognition hiding up in her head. She was just kind of lost, she was on loan here, she was always prepared to head back off whatever high she had come off of. Life was lost when she wasn't high. But I'm romanticizing here. What you probably have is an economically destitute, uneducated, eternally adolescent female barely surviving.
She was a dirty junkie, a dumbass, a failure to no cause. But it's hard to imagine that maybe she did opt out, maybe she saw through the sheer hazy fabric of her needles and realized the world was no more real to her than the dreams that she had had as a little girl. It's not a profound loss to the world, another stripper, another junkie. But it's a profound loss to Don, to her kid.
To her mom. And we can all say how ignorant she was, and truly she was, but what the fuck did she have in this world. Even the kid didn't clean her up. So why not just fade into the background one last time, melt into the furniture, finally give up. Don's not taking it so well. He had been so positive lately, curbing the inane antics that he was infamous for, the puke drinking, the mindless destruction, the loathing self-indulgence.
He was focusing on not fucking up his life beyond recognition anymore and now he receives news that his girl, no matter how broken up or far away she was, is gone. Gone gone. The kind of gone he's not equipped to deal with. So his world collapses front and center once again and we all wait for the kind of aggression that only come out of this poor white trash tragedy. 
