Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

     One thing you don't really hear too much about is how much shame takes over an addict whenever he or she runs into an old friend while in the midst of a nasty relapse. The addict always acts as if life is great and lies about their sobriety when it is clear to the friend that everything coming out of your mouth is fathoms away from the truth. You know they don't believe you by the shock on their face, but still trying to be a good friend, they nod and say it's good to see you when honestly they'd rather see you dead than suffering like that. 




One Month Before Her Death—August 2009




     What am I doing here?
     In any other circumstance this thought would be followed by a deep look at choices I've made, as well as a theory to what my purpose here on earth may be. Not this time. 
     Today I ask myself this while walking along the once tiled, now carpeted floor of one of Austin's finer places of human gathering—the mall. On every other day of the year, one would never find me in such extremes as this noisy, commerce-dripping place with its human-infestation problem. However, doing laundry is out of the question and I need a clean shirt. 
     I like to think the reason for the new carpet was due to my friends and I skateboarding inside while being pursued by rent-a-cops; not to mention, it is more aesthetically pleasing. My feet sink into it with each step towards the closest store from a secret side entrance. 
     Even when I'm not strung-out I dread the chance of running into someone I know. It's not so much of me not wanting to see them as it is me not wanting them to see me. The lights are always at that level of brightness that makes me uneasy, but sunglasses help with that—as well as avoiding eye contact. But it's the herds of people that holds a flame under my anxiety. It's like being at a party, sober, and not knowing anyone when all of them look at you like you're trespassing. So, No, I don't like engaging in the already awkward small talk where I'm informed of How much better your lives are compared to mine!
     Oh, you're getting married? Having twins? Got promoted and making fifty-grand a year?
     Please, tell me more about how much better your life is than mine. Oh, you gotta go? You're late for a thing you just made up because you don't want to be seen associating with someone like me? That's cool. It's always great being reminded how far back I am than my peers in the game of life! 
      By the way, congrats on the college graduation. 
      No, I didn't really stay long enough for a degree, but I graduated from rehab, Bitches!