Ladybugs - Part II

Part 2: Something changed in me that night. It made me cold, angry, and bitter. Even as I write this I struggle with my “coldness” and ability to not show my “feelings” even if it's all I want to do. I struggle with not being able to control my thoughts, actions, and words... The hour or so following ladybug (which is how I refer to that night) is a blur. I vaguely remember stumbling home - partly because of the trauma and partly because I was fucked up in the head space. I remember getting home in the early hours of that morning and climbing through my window as I always did; so as not to wake up my mother. I remember showering, as most do who have been through a similar experience. From there, I climbed into the safety and warmth of my bed.

I wish I could say that I told someone, anyone what happened. But I didn't. Instead, the light in my life grew darker and darker and I only had one mission: to numb the pain and forget. Soon my life switched directions from potential to potent. I quickly realized I loved being anywhere but where I was. A timeout from my mind and a stop to my thoughts was what I craved. The more I got it, the more I wanted it. It was a vicious cycle and I knew it. But I didn't want to stop even though I knew that I was self destructing. My descent into drug addiction was alarmingly quick. By my junior year of high school I was fully addicted to OxyContin. I had gone from a straight A honor student to a “"problem student” - tardiness, truancy, suspension, and failing all my classes. It was then that my addiction took complete control over my life. I started to do things that I still regret to this day. My morals and self-respect were a distant memory. Things came full circle November of my senior year when I walked out of high school for the last time. It was only a short time later that I fell in love.
I fell in love with the needle and started a tumultuous love affair with heroin…

Anonymous

To revisit "Ladybugs - Part I"