I remember it like it was yesterday. I was twelve and my sister had left the hall to get her coat. Her boyfriend stood in front of me. He abruptly took something that looked like a homemade cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it up and said, “ You want some.”
I’d heard about people like him. They were the cool kids. The ones who could take away all your stress and anxiety. And the stuff they gave away, it was said to be magical. My friend and I had been trying to find someone like him since both our parents had died two months ago. I was over eager, and foolish.
“Heck yeah.” I answered. He gave me an approving nod, took one out for me and said, “ Don’t tell anyone.” I looked at him and said, “ Can I have another for my friend?” He looked at me- curious, but at the same time uninterested. “ Yeah, why not?” He gave me another and I ran out the door.
My cell was already in my hand and I hurriedly dialed Jake’s number with my fingers trembling in excitement. He answered, but before he could speak I said, “Meet me at the old One-oh-One. I got them.” We both hung-up at the same time, he understood.
The old One-oh-One was an abandoned supermarket that Jake and I had claimed for ourselves. He brought the lighter and we both experienced our first high together.
This day was the beginning of the end of my life. Jake didn’t like the feeling and he quit. But, I couldn’t. I’d loved the feeling beyond what I thought was humanly possible. I kept getting high. Soon my sister’s boyfriend and I were best friends, simply because we both did drugs. I didn’t know my own mind. But the worst of it was, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about my friends, my schoolwork, or even the fact that I was getting weaker by the day. It didn’t matter. My life was centered on the next time that I would get high.
About five years later, Jake got worried and told my sister. She sent me off to a young adult drug center where she said they would help me. I’d rebelled, saying that I didn’t need help. But she could see through me. She made me go, I’ll forever owe Jake and her for that.
This is an essay; this is my essay. I’m now 17 years old and still a recovering addict. But I’m beginning to see myself again. I’m beginning to understand. I have a whole life ahead of me, and I’m not going to ruin it. I won’t make the same mistake twice. This is my life. I’ve got dreams and hopes and challenges. They’re all ahead of me. But my past is behind me. I made stupid, foolish choices. But I’m coming back fighting. I am me!