One Hundred Sleepless Nights

12

~ three years earlier~

My hands shake as I hold my phone, unable to stop myself from dropping it. My chest is seemingly heavier than usual, each breath a struggle to get out as if something is blocking my airways, growing bigger and blocking them more and more as the minutes go on.

Its not the first time I've seen this but usually its been on other people - not myself.

When do you cocaine as much as I do, you tend to see a lot of your friends die from it. So far I've had three of my closest friends, or, well drug friends, die from it. Twice in front of me which is something so scaring that it makes you want to use more so you can numb yourself and forgot.

The numbing is what got me into this in the first place. I didn't want to feel anymore. I couldn't. Then one night I was out with some friends and one of them offered us some coke, I tried it just to get a taste for it and I haven't stopped since then. It turned all of my problems off. 

I tried all the self help books from How To Get Over Loss On Your Own to Make Life Bright Again. I spent two months at a hip-hop dance group to try and make myself feel something again. I tried meditation, then boxing then weight lifting. I tried it all.

I e3ven went to therapy every single Wednesday at 2:15pm for four months. My therapist, Diane, told me I was making great progress with the loss of my father and the trauma that followed. Every time she told me it wasn't my fault it felt like some kind of joke said in jest. 

So cocaine became the easy answer.

Recent breakup? Haven't heard from Jaime since this day last year when he told me I was dead to him? Dead dad I never stopped grieving? Mom who is so disappointed in her daughter that she's cut her out too? No future? No friends?

 Who cares.

Cocaine is here for me on the days that no one else is. 

And now here I am, overdosing. My breathing is picking up now, my chest hurting at each breath I take. Not to mention the way my body is starting to freeze. It shouldn't be long now. 

A tiny part of me wants to call my friends or an ambulance so that they can come save me. They'll pump my stomach or hook me up to a drip or something to save my life, but is it even worth saving? I said I would give it a year to see if I got better and I haven't so now's my chance. 

Its been a nice couple of years, but this is where it ends for me. I've made my peace with it.