Holy shit! On Saturday I went to The Ten last night and this big woman was speaking. She was quiet, soft spoken, talked about god the entire time… I was so bored, I kept wondering when the good part was coming… she looked like she never did a drug In her life, she looked like a Sunday school teacher…

BUT THEN AT THE END SHE SAYS THIS: 

 “I remember smoking crack and saying, ok I got off the Oxys… now how do I get off this stuff.” 

I thought holy shit, I know that voice!

I remember I was 15 and I was crushing up some Oxys 80s at Docs house.  Doc wasn’t there, he was hardly ever home, but “approved people” could come by and get high there and pretty much do whatever. Then Doc and a group of people come storming in after a night of clubbing, what it seems like, all the guys were wearing these gay ass shimmering rhinestone button downs and there was this big woman with them. I remember she grabbed the pipe and just before she took a big hit she was laughing and she said “ok, I got off the Oxys, but now how do I get off this shit” and she took a big blast from the stem… she spoke at the meetings, she said she had EIGHTEEN MONTHS CLEAN. IT WAS HER!

I couldn’t believe it, we smoked crack together. She went on to say that she found out she was HIV positive in recovery and she’s… get this!! Grateful! She’s grateful cause if she was using she’d still have it but wouldn’t be able to maturely deal with it… she found out she had HIV and didn’t use… IF I GET A FUCKING PIMPLE I WANNA USE!

After the meeting I ran up to her and asked her if she used to get high in a house in Shady Ridge (that’s literally the name of the development), her face loses all expression and she says “oh no, you remember me from there…” ahaha, that’s crazy huh? She’s been clean a long time too, she gave me a big hug, grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said “you are in the right place.”

. . .

So I’m almost done with this outpatient program, it has taken me six months to complete this 3 months program but whatever, I know I needed it. 

The thought of going back to normal school really bothers me. I’m scared. That place makes me wanna use. I hate being there. I hate all the fucking dumb ass kids. I just don’t understand it, like what if no one showed up to the football games, how funny would that be. Like, why do they care? I don’t get it. Everyone is all about their high school and we have “school rivalries” but the only reason you go to that school is cause your parents live within the boundaries, they could change the boundaries tomorrow and your ass will be wearing some other school’s colors rooting for them at their home games, none of it is real, all this false sense school pride is retarded. They only care cause the school tells them to care.

I wonder where I’ll be when I’m twenty. Could you imagine me being clean at 20? If I stay clean now I’ll have three years clean when I’m 20, it’s weird to think about.

I wrote her on Facebook, tried to make amends to her… she didn’t reply. She hates me.

Dear Diary, 

     I can’t stop jerking off.

I been having a lot of using dreams, I had two really bad ones back to back. In one of them I was shooting up with this girl and she had like 25 bags of heroin and I only had 3 bags. She was shooting them back to back to back, and on her last bag she overdosed, foaming from the mouth, and twitching, I tried to help her but she had no pulse, he lips were blue. I grabbed one of the needles and drew up a bunch of her blood thinking that she had so much dope in her system and it would get me high. I remember thinking “damn, I might get hep C, or something… fuck it” and I injected myself with her blood and filled up two more syringes with her blood and ran out of there. 

When I wake up from a drug dream I feel so dirty… I feel like a scum bag. I wake up scared, wondering if it was real, reliving it again, sweating. I get up, go into the kitchen and grab a glass of orange juice, my moms asks me how I’m doing… what the fuck am I supposed to say, “good mom, just dreamt about shooting some dead doped up bitch’s blood”… my family wants me to talk to them but I can’t. I just drink my orange juice, mumble “yeah, I’m fine” and go back to my room.

The hardest part about staying clean is pretending like you’re okay.

I think about killing myself all the time…
I think that’s why I like going to meetings so much, it’s the only place I don’t have to pretend.