Life Chapter 2

Chapter 2



Drugs had become the main priority In my mother and father's life at this point.
Sometimes we would go without power or food or water. They seemed to not care about anything else but just getting high.
Their drug friends would come over and pass out just about anywhere, and this was normal.
I think back then my parents would have eaten a pile of shit if it would have gotten them high enough.
It didn't matter what type of drug but mainly it was methamphetamines.
My mother's drug of choice was always crack. She smoked it like it was nothing. I would always find the little pieces of bristle pad that she would use to use as a filter for her pipe. Until I found her little bag of goodies. In one of my boxes in my room I had found a bag, it had her little glass pipe, a lighter, needles, a baby spoon and a tourniquet. That's the day I had figured she wasn't only smoking but was also shooting up her drugs. I returned her bag to her and her face turned white, as if she had seen a ghost. She snatched the little green bag out of my hands and almost struck me. She looked at me like I had just gone through something personal and how dare I.
She was quite for the longest time as she stared me straight in the eyes. She finally spoke and said "don't tell your dad about this!"
As if she was a kid again and didn't want to get in trouble. I guess my dad didn't have any drugs, and she did and didn't want him to find out. They would fight and beat each other up every night, most of the times over drugs. I remember my dad throwing my mother into a full length mirror one night because she had stolen money from him.

I was weird in middle school. I remember going there, and sitting alone at lunch everyday. I never wanted to talk to anyone, and wore the same black sweatshirt everyday. Whether it was hot or cold I wore that same sweatshirt. I was very self conscious about my body. I thought I was fat when I wasn't even fat. I didn't have many friends, and always skipped school. I hated going there and while I was there I mainly just cried in the bathroom stall. I would cry at my desk quietly remembering the night before. My parents fighting until four in the morning and not getting any sleep. The same routine every night. That was when my anxiety had first started to really show. Just thinking about changing class to class made me want to vomit. I never ate at lunch either because I thought I was fat. I think middle school was one of the worst times of my life. I got a water bottle thrown at the back of my head one day. This popular girl purposely tried to trip me so i called her a bitch. I started walking away and she just threw it at the back of my head. I got to class and started bawling my eyes out. That's just what I needed right? Not only was I going through verbal abuse at home, I just got physically abused and humiliated at school in front of everyone. I got to class and sat down. My head in my hands having trouble breathing from crying. One person leaned over to me and asked if i was OK. My face bright red I could feel it, it was on fire and my eyes filled with tears. I looked up and I could barely see the boy who just acknowledged me.
I couldn't breathe from being so upset and he put his hand on my back and just patted it. I said i was fine after I calmed down for a minute and said thank you to him. He looked at me with caring eyes, I hadn't seen eyes like that In awhile and felt cared about at one point.
He looked down at his desk and just softly said "You should really talk to someone."
I never talked to him again.

Who was I going to talk to? A counselor? tell them about all the drugs, and abuse I was dealing with at home?
Get taken away from my parents, and live in foster care. My parents did love me. They just put things before me that's all.
I was going through the worst and had no one to really talk to.
I started writing in my diary around this time, because I couldn't talk to anyone about what was going on im my life.
I think writing was the only thing that made me not start to go crazy.