I walked in and said “Hi my name is Adeline.” Little did they know that I had presented myself with that name sometime after the entirety of my personal universe crumbled in front of me.
You see, I am an addict. Its taken about four months for me to actually say those words and I have only let them escape from my lips twice and be written by my hands once (this is that once.)
I would say what I was addicted to, but in all honesty it would be simpler to state what I wasn’t miserably hooked on.
I’ve tried almost everything out there. I’ve tried stuff that you’ve never even heard of. I am not saying this with boastful intentions. I am saying this so you know how deep in the rabbit’s hole I had gone.
I once heard a priest say that “darkness will always stumble into the light.” As a child that went completely over my head; but now that I have stumbled home from fuzzy, unknown locations in the wee, dark hours of the morning I can just barely wrap my head around the meaning.
Partying seems like all fun and games on television and even in some of the movies, but in the real word, it isn’t.
Well actually I can’t say that because if it wasn’t at least a little fun no one would do it.
So kill me I think partying is fun, but I think what happens the day after parties is horrendous.
I was fifteen when I had taken my first puff of a cigarette. That may not seem like much and you’d be right to think that. Because at the time it was unpleasant and there was absolutely zero allure. But that was just the first violation of many more to come.
After I turned sixteen a girl I knew introduced me to some friends of hers. These friends were defiantly no friends of mine because friends don’t go around getting you hooked on drugs and sin.
After I started doing drugs in bedroom’s and basements that friend that I had mentioned started taking me to parties. Maybe it was fun the first weekend, but after we started going to them on Mondays and Wednesdays it started to get hard to keep up.
Drugs cost money and money certainly does not grow on trees with little dollar signs on the leaves.
After my step-mom started to notice that money was missing from her wallet-that costed more than my high school education- I had to get creative. By creative I mean I started stealing stuff and sealing it on E-Bay.
Eventually that came to an end and I started stealing test answers and selling them.
Summer came and I was out of a “job”, that’s when things got bad. I began stealing drugs from my fellow party goers.
If I saw them passed out I would quickly raid their pockets.
Well one day one of the people whose pockets I was rifling through shot straight up and grabbed my wrist. He hit me so hard I had to get twelve stitches under my left eye.
My parents are workaholics and pretend I don’t exist so my simple “I slipped story” was good enough for them.
I moved out a little before I was eighteen and got rolled up a week later.
I was forced to go through detox more times than I can count.
Eventually the court system got tired of seeing my pretty little face and they ordered me to do fifty hours of community service as well as attend these meetings.
So it has been four months and this is my first time actually sharing anything about myself.
I call myself Adeline to remind myself of how things used to be.
Thanks for listening.