I started crying. I can’t go on like this. I thought I was crying but I guess it was a dream. My life is like one endless dream where I no longer feel anything.





There was a time when I had dreams. I had aspirations of being a lawyer. I had thought that one day I could see myself achieving things. In the depths of my depression, I had made myself a promise. I had a razor blade in the bathtub as a 12 year old. I had wanted so badly to slit my wrists. Some children seem born happy. This was not the case for me. I was born with a sadness that hung around my head like the fog in my brain. I had wanted to kill myself at 12 years old. I was fat and sad and alone. With no one to talk to, I traced my legs up and down with a razor blade. I promised myself I would never try to kill myself. I was strong. I could find a way to survive my feelings.





Unfortunately, that way seemed to involve heroin. I wish it wasn’t the truth, yet it is, it was for me. Heroin saved my life and took it from me. So many years spent in the depths of despair. I was fumbling in my dark room, watching tv and vegetating. By the time I was 17, no amount of weed, or alcohol, or LSD, or anything else could make me feel better. I wanted to be one of those kids that stood in the corner and could laugh at the colors. Instead, I was always so trapped inside myself.





Opiates made me talk. They made me not care if I did not have all the answers. I had been trying so long to have everyone like me. Suddenly, magically, I know longer cared. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you too. It was awesome.For once in my life, I was no longer crippled by expectations. Until my solution became my much bigger problem.





Then the sickness came. I was not expecting it. Nor could I have anticipated the slow decay of my morals. Just this once, no one will know, and well fuck it became my personal slogans on my campaign for Team Heroin.The voices came and went. The voices inside my head, the ones that said DON'T do this, I pushed them down, down, down.





I woke up one morning. It was a few years later. I was skinny and old and scarred and scared. There I was was in the mirror. I woke up from a long dream. I had broken my promise. I was killing myself a unit at a time. I was committing suicide on the installment plan. My time was nearly up.





No one has to love me anymore. No one has to believe me. No one has to listen when I whisper "hey I know how you feel". I am not inside your head. I don't walk around in your skin.





Yet- There are some things I do know. I do know- that burden is heavy. I can also tell you, there is room for you at the other side. Maybe today isn't the day but you CAN stop using. In fact, you WILL stop using. All of us stop at one time or another. Find a way. Find a reason. Find a purpose. Find a dream.





I love you readers. My dream for you is a safe and happy holiday.











