Oddly enough me losing my latest place to live had absolutely nothing to do with my drug use.
After the overdose and my intense conversion with my friends’ dad I did my very best to hold up my end of things. I stopped using in or around the house and I didn’t even bring my paraphernalia around the house. I even did my best not to come back to the house too messed up.
I started helping my friends’ mom with simple house stuff, cooking, and cleaning which she was ever so grateful for. Apparently I was trying too hard and my friend felt as though I was making her look bad so she wanted me to go. Her parents told me I didn’t have to leave as it was their house but I didn’t want the tension and discomfort to continue so I packed my things once again and out I went.
It didn’t take long for me to find a place to stick my crap while I went on the hunt for my next fix. Which also didn’t take long to find. As I sat on the floor of the dope mans living room I found humor in my current predicament. I had slowly started to change my ways and do what I thought was a good thing and still, it blew up in my face. “So maybe it’s not the drugs that are the issue maybe it really is just me”. That was the last coherent thought I had before I went on a 3-day binder of any and everything I could get my hands on.
At this point, I had felt as though there was no real reason for the change. I was good with my life the way it was, even if it was falling apart.
“Before you can break out of prison, you must realize you are locked up.” – Author Unknown
