I’ve always been a lost page of a book of thousands of stories, never knew where I was; today, I stand before all of you to tell what went wrong and what made me realize the life I was ignoring.
My First Encounter with Meth Addiction
At the age of 21, one of my friends introduced me to the blood-sucking addiction of methamphetamine. The first few weeks were blossoms, and everything just felt like a perfectly curated way out of the matrix; however, one day, I remember when my friend TJ (I don’t want to mention his real name here, for obvious reasons!) didn’t show up for the intended stuff dealing. That single day, I went into a crumbled maze of fragmented life; nothing seemed aligned with me, and I was acting as if I was about to go insane in a matter of hours by losing control of what was left in my conscious mind. In fits of rage, I started to break things up. My parents were concerned, and my little sisters were terrified to see me doing things the way I was doing them; it was chaos, and to escape any intentional attempt to hurt anyone. I locked myself in the door.
Three hellish days have passed, and I can’t find TJ. It was as if I was looped in the downright ugliest suffering I could’ve imagined; by this time, I knew these withdrawals were going to get the soul out of me. I was locked up, did not go to a job, and avoided my girlfriend and especially the ones living with me, my family. I was just tantalizingly worse, and things did not work out.
The Root Cause
Before jumping deep into the pothole of meth addiction, I was curious to try out all the other psychoactive, be it any leaf or God knows what not? But this thing was so different; I was already broken, bullied, and ignored by society. I never felt good about myself; I was crumbling, feeling left out, and my relationship with my girl was also hanging in the air; the psychoactive compounds were there to soothe me, and my idea behind them was to alter the perception somehow, and to go to a different level of state of mind, and that novelty seeking led me to TJ, who got me into this brutal lane to self-destructive state.
A Father’s Embrace: The Moment I Realized It Was Too Late
Now, 4th day, I came out and saw my family being highly disturbed; by that time, I did not have any idea what to do, but I rushed toward my father and hugged him tight. I cried, and I said, sorry, Dad. My father did the right thing; instead of hunting me down, he understood the situation and embraced me, but it was too late. Perhaps I’ve induced enough of that hellish drug inside my system?
I was worried. Each passing hour was making things ugly and none-bearable. It felt like everything was eating me alive. I had done so much meth that it just wrecked my life, and when I finally got to the hospital, the doctors said I was too late—four days too late after my last hit of crystal meth was completely metabolized.
I couldn’t eat, drink, or even breathe right. Lying there with my eyes closed, I started hearing voices and screams and seeing these weird figures. My body was on the edge, craving more, and I was this close to relapsing. I couldn’t stand another second of it, but I still wanted more. Everyone I loved—my dad, mom, sisters—felt so far away, like they were just detached from everything while I was in pain. Then… blackout. I don’t even know what happened after that. That part of my memory? Gone, just erased forever.
A Hard-Learned Lesson on Life, Addiction, and Loss
After four years of going through so much and fighting my demons, I’m still here, still breathing, and able to tell you that no amount of drugs can fix you. It’s just a temporary relaxation for the mind and body that spreads inside like cancer in longer-term use, making everything worse. After realizing this, I saw that I didn’t just put my life in danger—I nearly shattered my entire world and the lives of those who loved me unconditionally. I never saw TJ again. I have no idea if he’s alive, dead, or caught, but one thing I’ve learned is that people come into your life for better or for worse. It all depends on who we let in and how much control we allow them to have over our lives.
A Plea for Self-Love and Resilience
Before I wrap up, I want to say this: bullying might seem fun for those who do it, but the person on the receiving end carries the trauma. The way the world treated me shattered my self-esteem after so much abuse, bullying, and addiction. I just want to remind you—yes, you, me, and everyone—that we’re all unique. Some people are born to care, while others are born to make a difference or be a light. But falling into any kind of addiction only destroys what’s left of your already broken life. I wanted to have control, to alter my reality, but instead, I nearly ended my life and brought suffering to my family.
I want to thank Rent-Free Living for allowing me to share my story. Please love yourself, believe in yourself, and don’t let society’s demons drag you down.