Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

     I don't know how many people in the world today truly believe in fate, true love, finding your soulmate, or if we even have souls. I was raised in a Christian household believing that all of these ideas were indeed true and that everything happens for a reason. However, naturally, as my body and mind grew older, so did my curiosity. 
     Today, if I see a child tugging on his or her parent’s pant leg at the grocery store with that incessant syllable shooting out of their mouth like tiny, annoying spears—"Why? Why? Why?"—I have to remind myself that I too was once that young, walking, talking irritation. 
     Not long after the belief in a Santa Claus was tossed in the can, I threw God away, as well. With my faith went the belief in fate, or everything happening for a reason. But I couldn't get rid of the idea of finding true love, or your "soulmate." (The "soul" only being a word that I chose to use, at the time since I believed we didn't have actual souls.)
     Anything to do with love, I still wanted to believe. Until drugs entered the picture, ruining me and everything around to the point where a month-long stay in a rehabilitation center was necessary. After I became clean and sober, I figured the best thing to do next would be to stay in a sober house, thus, I found one in the small town a few miles from the treatment center. I began a new chapter in my life and things were going great, but I was still only nineteen years old. And at that age, one has strong, aching needs and desires. I had to find something to satisfy that urge. Or someone…
     The women's house was only a few doors down the street, where a new girl, fresh out of rehab, had just filled their vacancy. We began dating and I was able to fill the fathomless hole inside me—as well as release a few demons. She intrigued my interest because she was from a different world entirely. A darker world that had brought her to her knees, and into a rehab center. She was a heroin addict. 
     As the days flew by, our love for each other grew bigger and bigger. At the same time, it began taking the place of our recovery. 
     After five months into my sobriety and only three months into our love, I let her stick a needle in my arm. 


(To Be Continued…)