i am not sure how many people, exactly, are going to die because we are going to close injection sites but the number will not be zero; ask anybody who knows anything about this and they will tell you with no uncertainty that this number will not be zero.
four thousand people — canadians, human beings — died this way last year; each one a tiny failure of a system whose chief sin lies in its inability to overcome its own apathy, its own desire to do the things that everybody knows, innately, have to be done, but cannot yet stomach. instead of arguing about how to fix it, we are just arguing about whether fixing it is even worth trying at all. it is an inane argument; death will get us there one way or another.
as this happens, the number keeps getting larger. the people that die won’t die gently in hospitals surrounded by loved ones. no, they’ll die in the freezing cold, in the blowing snow of a cold ontario winter & they will be all alone, because that’s where we told them they should be, where we figured we could put them.
they’ll be alone as it hits & as their body forgets how to breathe & as it just goes to black & black & more black, as people die in alleyways & parks & single-stall bathrooms. we are telling people that, if their addiction is irresolvable, that this is just as good a place as any.
we will have the same political debates about it, and we will forget that politics is not about how you get where you're going, but that the true mark of politics is played in bare minimums; it is in hard red lines you absolutely will not cross; it is about what parts of human life are, to you, non-negotiable.
the number gets larger and larger and larger and larger and larger and larger and larger.
maybe one day all of this will serve as a good reminder — we need those sometimes — that we are essentially the only civilization callous enough to ever make it against the rules to save a life.
but this is just where we are now, and we all know how little we can do. we can do nothing but thrash around and scream until our bodies are sore & until we can’t take tuning in anymore, but there will always be one more new thing to scream and thrash about. someone will always thrash until their bones hurt & yell until their voice hurts, & until the simple act of being a person, alive, makes you feel like you are suffocating, and who will be there to tell them to stop? they will be always thrashing and always screaming, & always thrashing and always screaming.
the number will just keep getting larger
just wondering if we’re all o.k. with this