BLACK ROSE

Am I what I fear I am?

Ashley. 

I don't even remember how I got to drugs. As usual, it wasn't something I had planned, nor was it something I ever wanted.

It started with a simple cigarette. I was twelve and my life has just crashed at my feet. From one day to the other it was all suddenly gone and too different. It left me in chaos and confusion, both so deep I didn't know what to do. So I distanced myself from my friends without really knowing what I was doing. Before I knew it, I had found older friends. I thought it would be better for me, that maybe they would understand me. But they didn't. Looking back at it now I know it was a mistake, but back then I knew no other way to cope with my sadness.

I left my friends for a group of fifteen-year-old children with a terrible sense of humour I at that time couldn't understand and a dress code that was very weird. All they did was get drunk and high. It was their weekly ritual that interested me as a twelve year old. Up until meeting them I had only seen adults drink before. I was raised in the philosophy that you had to be legal of age to drink, or at least a legal adult. There was never space for any questioning, it never crossed my mind that you could get your hands on alcohol at an earlier age. The adults drinking around me were always dressed very fancy and spent the whole evening sipping their expensive red wine, while their conversations never got interesting or spicy. For years I grew up in such an environment, thinking that's how it's supposed to be. That was the image I had of drinking in my head. But these kids showed me you could be a troubled teen with a shitty life and absolutely no passion for fashion, and still drink. Not sip, but drink. Take the bottle and pour the liquid down your throat until it doesn't burn. That was what they showed me.

They used to meet at the docks every Friday night and drink. Occasionally they'd meet on Saturdays too. They rarely did anything else but drink and smoke and talk. Of course they had food and music, and every once in a while someone danced for a little. It wasn't a big party, more a little gathering of friends. As twisted as it sounds, I know they liked it for more than just alcohol. Now I know that they cared about each other, all in their own ways.

I knew very well that my father would kill me if he knew what I was doing and with whom. I was from a wealthy family after all. One day their conversation was about marihuana. It was long and detailed and caught my attention. Joints. Until that day joints were only briefly mentioned around me. It wasn't that my parents wanted to protect me and made me live in a bubble. No, in fact their friends swore a lot. My parents simply wanted to avoid getting me in trouble.

Though I knew the risks, I always took them. My father never found out. The idea that a plant was capable of providing you with such euphoria and transferring you to a different universe, so euphoric and relaxing, tempted me. It was, after all, against a lot of biological principles I knew back then.

It's still uncertain to me how I managed to infiltrate their close friend group. They never took new people in and kept strictly to themselves. Somehow I, a little kid, managed to win them over. They weren't exactly bad kids, just had a harder time coping with life problems during their puberty. I cannot blame or judge them. I wasn't any better than them. I might've been even worse.

When one of the girls, Chris, started to date the boy I had a crush on, I started to hate her. I loved her and I looked up to her, then one day this illusion crushed – that's how I perceived the situation then. Now I know it was ridiculous, I never had a chance with him. I was like a little sister to him, but it still made me mad back then. In my mind I thought I had a chance with him. I considered him to be the only normal boy and therefore developed a crush on him. So when I caught them kissing one day, I started to resent them both.

I went to one of the other boys, one I knew would give me a joint. I didn't really understand the consequences, but a broken heart of a twelve year old was a good enough reason.