
As you know (Mother), i am deeply terrified/paranoid/traumatised by needles. i really have no idea why but i think it might have something to do with that mysterious illness i had when i was about 8 and it seemed like all the nurses and doctors were just interested in gouging my arms with needles. In the past 4 instances where i have had blood taken, i have fainted about 3 times. Needless to say, i don't run the risk of becoming a junkie (despite the move to Scotland) because the sheer sight of a needle makes me flail my arms about and whimper like a school girl.
In that split second that i realised that i was centimetres away from stepping on A USED NEEDLE, i did this weird reflex jump/dance move and bounded away from it. The people standing at the bus stop - where the needle was - must have thought i was a spaz that bumped into some invisible object and reacted.
But what i don't get is why, at 9pm on a Wednesday evening, a used needle is LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK?! Like, was some junkie waiting for a bus to arrive and decided to cook up and shoot RIGHT THERE? In the middle of a busy street? And if so, was anyone all, "uuhhh...do you mind not shooting up in front of me and ma Gran after we we just had a lovely afternoon out shopping?!" Like, seriously people - WHAT THE FUCK!?
i feel bad for whose ever job it is to pick that shit up.
So, after publicly spazzing out and breaking into a cold sweat, i happened to bump into my friend's friend, David. He asked how i was and i told him how i almost stepped on a syringe about ohhh...5 minutes ago. i was obviously freaked out but more perturbed as to why a needle was just lying about for wee kids to step on and play with. He was so casual about it all and replied, "Because it's Scotland. This place is shit. Really, you should go back to Canada".
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