A Junkie's Journal

Seventeen

edited (11.12.16)
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A few days ago, one of Tristan's friends had told him about an inhalant Tristan could use to get a short high. He lied to his grandparents about spilling something on his laptop keyboard, asked if they had the inhalant, and they gave it to him without any other questions.
The first time Tristan huffed the fumes, he felt ecstatic. The feeling only lasted for about a minute, so he huffed the can again, and another time after that. His friend warned him about the cold can crystallizing his lungs, so he set the can aside.
Later that night, he was using the inhalant while FaceTiming his friend. He sat on the bed after using it once; all of a sudden, Tristan was in a weird position on the floor by his bed without remembering how he got there. According to his friend on the phone, Tristan had passed out for around fifteen seconds, but Tristan didn't let that bother him. He breathed in the fumes one more time, then put the can away.
The next night, Tristan found the can from where he had hidden it. He used it three or four times, but during the second or third time, he passed out yet again and woke up in a sitting position on the floor. The fourth time, he sat on the bed like the day before. He woke up to the sound of his grandfather's voice, asking him if he was okay. He nodded quickly, muttering a quiet "yeah" as he stood up and touched his lip - it was bleeding. His grandfather heard a loud 'thump' coming from Tristan's room and ran upstairs to check on him.
Tristan was forced to sit out and watch television with his grandparents after his grandfather found him. He came up with a fake story off the top of his head to tell to everyone about how he felt before he passed out in addition to the rest of the details surrounding the event. His grandmother called Tristan's mother and asked her about his 'fainting spell' because of his mother's experience in the medical field.
She made Tristan talk to his mother to explain to her himself. Tristan barely convinced her that it was a combination of his severe anemia, an iron deficiency, and lack of fluids. Tristan didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't convinced his mother.
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Tristan was truly himself when he is on Focalin or Ambien, he could promise that to anyone. Focalin made him euphoric and energetic, whereas Ambien made him loopy and mellow.
He had been sleeving 10 milligrams of Focalin every day; in addition, today he had sleeved 30 milligrams. That meant he had 50 milligrams in total, and he'd have 60 milligrams by tonight.
Although he knew he was back to his old habits and was better than ever, but he didn't know how to feel about it. His peers told him that his guardians didn't let him crush his Focalin because they were trying to keep him safe, but he believed it was for a different reason - they wanted him to be miserable, just like everyone else.
Tristan poured some of the pale yellow powder onto his laptop. He made lines with an old hotel key card, afterwards grabbed the pen casing he had previously hidden next to his bed. After railing the lines, he sat back in his chair, letting out a small, relieved sigh. No matter the consequences, he would do anything to feel this way for the rest of his life.
Since he was in a mood to write, Tristan was going to write letters to loved ones.