aplacetotellit (aplacetotellit) wrote,
aplacetotellit
aplacetotellit

I relapsed about 4 months ago, shortly after we broke up. It started small, like it always does - pot, too much pot, and alcohol. It got to the point where I was drinking every other night, which at this time is really all I can afford. I was spending entirely too much on pot. Then I started in on my prescription pain med stash. I don't know why I never threw it out. I was so happy when we were together, and usually when I'm happy, I clear out my stash.

Vicodin, xanax, oxycodone, klonopin, anything I've acquired through prescription in the last 2 years, is in a basket under my sink. My stash is dwindling, and I'm wondering if or when anyone will notice. No one noticed when I dropped 35 pounds in 4 months, no one noticed when I became nocturnal again, started chewing on my fingernails and my lips. No one noticed when I wore the same clothes for 4 days or started zoning out at parties, hearing my thoughts out loud and wondering if I'm really losing my mind this time. No one noticed when I drove home drunk from the bar. No one cared.

I am who I was before, I am who I hate. And no one notices. Not my family, not that guy I fell for way too quickly, not my best friend or my big brother. I find a new high every day - duster, sharpies, resin from my bowl if I'm too broke for green, my roommate's liquor, some old painkillers from when I had my wisdom teeth extracted. I find a new high every day, and every day I reach a new low.

I don't want to die anymore, but sometimes I wonder how that would go. I wonder if my mom would call you, I wonder how your breath would sound as you drop the phone on the floor, and I wonder if you'd try to kill yourself later in the night when you realize it's real and I'm actually gone. Forever. You told me you would. If I did. You would. Is that true? Do you still love me? Are you seeing anyone now? You were my only reason to stay clean. You were the first person to give a shit that I sliced my thighs up when I was sad. I'm almost 22 years old. It's time for me to grow up and become what I always wanted to be.

I've thought about joining the peace corps. I started my application tonight. But will they really take on a depressed, bulimic, scared shitless drug addict? What do I even have to offer this world? I'm overweight, burned out, and I can't even keep a guy for more than a couple of weeks. I'm sorry I broke your heart, but you deserve better. Just leave me here to rot.
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