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He puts the car in drive and heads for west Chattanooga, it had been a year since he had been in that neighborhood, but the last thing he wanted right now was to feel, and he was starting to sober up. He had quit doing drugs a year ago thinking his life would change, that happiness would surely come around, but that was not the case, it seemed the longer he stayed clean the lonelier he felt. He had tried so hard to love and find love but it seems all he could find was rejection, drugs seem to be the only cure, a way for him to ease his pain, slow his mind down and shut off his emotions, the only way to forget the hurt he felt, and that is how he has survived and lived since the age of twelve. Amazingly hope had never left his mind that he would find someone that truly cared for him, that appreciated him and wanted to be with him, but through his year of sobriety, having to feel, to deal with not being good enough for anyone to love, not being special like he truly believed in his heart that he was, realizing that he could die tomorrow and nobody would care, so why should he, he was headed for crack town to ease his mind. As he rolled into the neighborhood, he felt like it was only yesterday that he was here, he had been coming down here for about fifteen years and had bought drugs from probably just about everyone in the area that sold them, he was well known down here and even after a year it only took him about a minute to find a dealer and score a couple hundred dollars worth of crack. He knew exactly where he was going to go, there was a freeway overpass not a quarter mile away, he had spent many nights out there when his wife used to get mad at him and kick him out of the house, which seemed to happen weekly throughout his eighteen years of marriage. There were always a few homeless people sleeping down there but they always kept to themselves. There was a side road that brought him within a couple hundred yards of the overpass, he drove down it, parked his new car and began to walk, looking for an empty can as he walked to smoke his crack out of, he had to jump one fence and trample through some brush and then he was finally there, the only thing on his mind was getting high, nothing else seemed to matter, james noticed two homeless men sitting about thirty yards away and hoped they were not fool enough to say a word to him, he lit a cigarette and started making a pipe out of the can he found, he needed ashes from his smoke to put on the can and he couldn't make them fast enough, he had never wanted to get high as bad as he did right now, he broke off a big piece and put it on the can, and began to hit it, he felt an instant calmness until one of the men said something, they could see he was getting high and they wanted some, you gonna share, one of them said, james set his can down and got up and walked over to them, as he walked up, they were still sitting, james was just about standing over them and they could see what looked like blood, splattered on his face, arms, and his shirt where he had wiped his hands, his knuckles cut open, james looked down on them and calmly said I am going to go back over there and get high, and your not going to say another fucking word to me, if you think you are going to rob me of my dope, you are sadly mistaken because I will put both of you in your graves, you fucking hear me, james waited for an answer and got none, I said do you fucking hear me, answer me. Even though both of the men were drunk they new crazy when they saw it, and they were seeing it, one of the men said to james, we didn't mean no harm, go have your fun, we"ll leave you alone, without a word, james turned and went back to where he set his can down and proceeded to take hit after hit after hit. He went through two hundred dollars worth of crack in about an hour and a half, when he was out of drugs, he curled up in the fetal position in the dirt and rocked back and forth till he finally fell asleep