Addiction

"You can't just go off and get high!" I screamed at him.
"Well I did. And I'm glad I did." He replied hazily.
"You won't be saying that when you become addicted, and go insane!" I continued to scream.
"Well sometimes being insane is ok." He said calmly, as if nothing was wrong.

The smoking was one thing, but the marajuana was another. It was enough he was already sick, and now he decides to add in to the stress by disguising his sadness with more stress.
He felt worthless, dead even.
All because of an addiction.

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1. Chapter 1

My shoes splatter through puddles, running while holding my breath, and I don't know why. I had the instinct to hide. As we ran the small bag clapped against thigh, as I turned around looking for cribs. I see her dark clothes turning the corner, and I turn around and continue to run.

I finally duck into the hutch right before I heard the shot. I got up and choked on my own scream. Before me lay cribs, her leather soaking wet, and right near her heart was a hole.

I had passed out right after that. When I woke it was raining, sudden pouring rain pattered down. It was light out. About 6am. I stood up facing the body. Her whole black T-shirt was covered in red. I looked at her pale, lifeless face. I fell down on the pavement. Crying and crying.

When I decided to move again, I felt a jerk in my pants, and the bag fell out. I stared at this hand sized drab on the ground.

"Why is it that the tiniest things have the biggest impact?"

When the words came from my mouth, my voice was hoarse and scratchy. I stared at the tiny bag. Drowning in the rain.

After forever contemplating the bag, I screamed. Loud. I shred my shoe through it, feeling plastic rip and crush, I screamed again, and tore my shoe through the weed, grinding it to the ground.

Tears and tears fell thinking of my stupidity, My horrible mistakes, and suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, I puked. Right on to cribs.

A yell of disgust came from me, and tears and tears hit the ground. Even in the rain, my own sorrow was strong enough to tell apart.

------------

2 months later I checked myself in to rehab, where I was cleaned. I stayed there regaining strength, exercising, eating real food. I wore bright colors, I started writing and drawing. I smiled and looked people in the eye.

After 4 months in rehab, I checked out. I've been living with my parents since. But I'm going to get my own place. I'm getting back in the fast lane. I'll be ok.

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