dads & drugs

Hi, my name is Avarie, and I'm an addict.

Addicted to the idea that my dad should have been given another chance when he was turned away from the rehab center.

He was deemed a criminal because of his addiction,

his disease,

and when he reached out,

"No, we can't fix you. You're too far gone."

Gone from society,

separated like a monster.

Neglected like an unwanted, old dog.

Everyone gave up on you.

Your parents, your sisters, and your lovers.

Even me, dad.

We silently watched, hushed if we were to bring it up.

"We don't talk about that."

"He just needs to be locked up."

"He'll get help."

And you did. You were sober for the last years of your life.

And you were my best friend.
You taught me that life is bland without art and music.

You made my life colorful.

Beat.

Hi, welcome to your local rehab center where we can fix all your problems.

Do you have a criminal record?

Do you have mental or chronic health issues?

Are you on parole or probation?

Are you a minor?

If you said yes to any of these questions,

Sorry, we can't serve you.

But how do you break a cycle of crime where your only treatment is available

To those who are not a criminal?

Beat.

My dad was a criminal because of his disease.

Separated from the world, hushed when he begged for help.

Given money for a hotel room,

"Here's this, now restart."

They found you that following Monday, almost expecting you to fall into this never-ending trap.

They found you with holes in your arm, the same one you had my name tattooed on.

Hi, my name is Avarie, and I'm addicted to the idea that you can find my name in ashes,

At the Greenlawn Cemetery.