This Is What My Friend’s Heroin Addicted Mother Taught Me
I consider this the greatest blessing of my life, and it will help you deal with your pain.
At 16, I was scared away from ever trying drugs for the rest of my life.
I consider this the greatest blessing of my life.
Many of my friends were not so lucky. They got addicted to various drugs as a way to numb the pain of living up to their parent’s materialistic dreams (“get an education, then get a good job” was what they’d say).
It was a cold night during winter. I was wearing my black, puffy Ecko jacket that made me look like a member of Tupac’s crew, our idol. I had begun hanging around a new group of friends that were more violent than my previous friends, giving me the significance I craved.
The night started out at the local McDonalds. A guy got bottled in the face by one of my friends. It was supposed to be a glorious moment. I had a secret though: violence made me physically sick. I could watch violence but I could never do violence.
Every time someone got bottled, or punched, or knifed, I excused myself to be sick. My hands would shake and I couldn’t eat my cheeseburger. Nobody knew my secret: I hated violence.
