I thought I had it all figured out. I was 13 going on 30 and no one could tell me right from wrong because I knew everything. I didn’t or couldn’t care about anything, and that was the greatest feeling in the world; not caring. I lost my conscious as soon as I found drugs, it was immediate and it was exhilarating. I could do and say whatever I wanted because I didn’t care, and I was too young to be empathetic to anyone I was hurting in the process. At the time there was no better feeling than not caring, I was emotionless and I loved it.
I remember countless times I purposely tried to overdose from 13-17 years old. I was naive and for lack of a better word; an idiot. I was playing with death as if it were a toy, just to see what would happen. I think back now and it scares me to know that I was truly careless, I can’t relate to that person I was; it doesn’t feel like me. Just writing this is making me cringe.
Eventually the world kept moving and I was standing still in my own self created disaster. I made my bed and I was laying in it, the most uncomfortable, terrifying bed and I had no choice but to wrap myself in its blankets. I began to think, it can only go up from here right? Wrong. I was stuck in a lifeless routine with an addiction I couldn’t break. I was a child with grown up problems beyond my control. Although it has been a long, scary, and heartbreaking road; the last 10 years has given me more life than I thought possible. Now it’s a matter of finding my path and going with it. Growing and learning, one day at a time, every day is a new day and I am going to make it work.