Strange Fruit

It seems ironic that the first time i saw Amy Winehouse in person, I was struggling through my first experience with drugs. Before you gasp and judge me in a brand new light, they were herbal highs in the innocent year of 2006, when they were sold on festival stalls like sweets. I was always a nieve teenager, lacking in experimentation with drugs and alcohol (this may I add, is not a bad thing).

I swallowed the herbal high, a kind of off-green pill, sour. After half an hour with no affect, I took two swigs of Jack Daniels. I tipped backwards, rolling on the floor in fits of giggles. That soon wore off.

I began to cry uncontrollably - "You're aren't my friends!! Sam (long story) is making you all pretend to be freinds with me! Eve will never talk to me again (again, long story). What I was experiencing was extreme paranoia. This lasted all weekend, and in between fits of bawling and "You don't like me!", I managed to see a few acts. One of them was Amy Winehouse.

It was Friday night and I was wondering around the field in a dreamstate, not necessarily a pleasant one. The Go Team were hitting up the mainstage while my friends were doing thier upmost best to make sure I didn't run away from them - those pills put me in a terrible emotional state of wanting to escape all company.

A distant tremble hit my ears at this moment. A booming male voice, the kind who could host in a smokey jazz bar, announced, "Please introduce, Miss Amy Winehouse.."

In 2006, I was proud to say I was a gigantic fan of Amy Winehouse and her album, Frank. I ran. I ran without a care in the field. Stumbling, all previous worries of paranoia and dispair evaporated as I scurried through the Autumn air in my out-of-it state. My friends chased me with all of the concentration they could muster.

I'd made it right to the front of the stage, and in my selfish fleeing, my freinds lost sight of me.

At that moment, I glared up at Amy, swaying in my calm, frantic state. I thought to myself a typical festival-thought that many can relate to (and probably in the same drug-induced state too).... I am enveloped by strangers on the front row. My mind is still catching up with me, whirring as my body had run ahead of my thoughts. Singing along with Amy, feeling shocked at how much tinier she was in comparison to her Frank promo shoot, I felt content, elated, for the first time since those darn pills.

Every time I saw Amy perform, it was nothing less than an experience. In some bitter twist, it only seems right that Amy died before her time, just like the great Billie Holiday to whom she aspired to be like.

P.S Thank you guys for putting up with my strange ways that weekend - you all know how strongly i oppose these things ever since!

P.P.S YAY. You weren't pretending to be my friends. AND Eve and I have shared thousands of words since.
Silly pill.