User talk:Sbergan

What goes up     'Why does injecting the bad stuff feel so good?’ I thought as I pulled the used needle out of my pulsing vein. Any second now I should feel the head rush and a high, so great words wouldn’t be able to describe it. I used to love this high, when it greeted me I would continuously smile back, always happy to offer another vein. Now it comes for me, no longer my decision, it’s embedded in my head, and the second that needle crosses my mind, it makes me use. I didn’t even notice my addiction, until long after the point of return. It’s easy to cope with a problem when you have somewhere to live. Once my parents kicked me out, a large dose of reality hit me, so hard I reduced myself to stealing anything and everything I needed to survive. When I did leave I left with nothing more than one bag of heroin and the clothes on my back. That was then. Now, I lay down on my usual bench, scared of sleeping, knowing the danger of letting your guard down even for a second in this place. These streets are tough, there are people out here who are worse off than me. Trust me, I’m pretty damn bad! I close my eyes and allow myself a few hours of light sleep. Another day, not bad. I made it through the night. Not great, not until I get my morning fix. ‘Who to grab off of today?’ I thought to myself. I could go to Jimmy’s; he’s always up for a good trade. A few hours later and I’m flying! Reminder to self: ‘Jimmy has some damn good junk!’ I screamed in my head. You probably think I’m a lazy screw up, who doesn’t even try to get their shit together, but I have tried. It’s scary, detoxing is not a pretty thing; the pain is unbearable it feels like dying. It’s like I’m stuck in a really bad relationship and I can’t get out. It beats me up inside and abuses me but for some reason I always go back. ‘Why do I go back?’ I think as I let myself cry. How long has it been, since I let myself feel like this, feel like anything? Maybe if I call my mom she’ll hear me out, let me come back home? “Hey mom, it’s me Lauren,” I tried to sound not so messed up. “Lauren, I told you not to call me ‘till you’re sober” she said started to cry softly. My dad and her had this agreement that they wouldn’t talk to me until I’m clean. “Mom I just wanted to talk to you, is that so wrong?” I asked trying to sound sincere. “Yeah it is wrong, last time you called me I gave you over $200” she said in her tough-mother voice. “I’m not asking for money this time, I’m asking for my family back!” I said hoping she would buy it. “Honey, I do want you to be part of this family again, and you know I want to talk to you but right now you're high and I’m talking to the heroin. Please let me get you help!” she pleaded in her begging voice. “I don’t need help I’m fine!” I shouted hanging up the pay phone. How could my problem have developed this bad so fast? I’ve only been on the streets for two months, and I’ve completely lost my family and myself. I made my way to a subway washroom to shoot up again, and then I saw myself, for the first time in weeks. This couldn’t be me, could it? When I was at home I could never imagine myself with dreads; but here I stand long dirty blond dreads down to my back. When I left home, wasn’t my hair platinum blond? I questioned my hazy heroin covered memory. I took a closer look at myself in the mirror, noticing my once pure blue eyes were now a dull grey. ‘What have I done?’ I thought to myself. I can’t believe I let this happen. NO! I won’t let this happen! I feel bad for the people who have to look at me. I’m such a disgrace to everyone, every life I’ve touched, I’ve ruined, I don’t even understand why I’m still here. That hour in the washroom, I did three times as many bags of heroin than I usually do. They found me a few hours later sprawled across the floor. I was dead; it finally won the game that I promised I would never lose. I’m dead, though I know my addiction lives on. It lives on in other people, future users, and the lucky few who think they’ve beaten their addiction. It’s still out there ready to kill again.