Dustin Cochran
Malone
English 101
February 26, 2015
Addictions
It seems like just yesterday I was the line leader at Chapel Brook Elementary school. Now the only lines I get involved with are the lines I snort off my glass coffee-table in my worn down apartment with my speed freak roommate: Johnny. I chuckle at the thought that I was voted most likely to succeed in middle school. If succeeding is having your parents disown you, getting kicked out of high school, aiming a loaded rifle in your mouth every night, and hoping that one day you conjure up enough strength to swallow the last pill you will ever need; then I’m excelling quite well. “Salem Ross, one-hundred percent”, is all you would ever see on anything a teacher ever assigned me. It didn’t matter if it was a test, home-work assignment, cross-word, notes, presentation, or just a picture needing to be drawn. Everything I ever turned in for a grade was a masterpiece. School was my passion and my parents couldn’t have been any more proud of me. As soon as I'd get home from school, I’d run straight up to my room and finish all of my homework and study for the next quiz to come up. To me, it never got boring. I’d do it all night until there was nothing left to study anymore. Eighth grade was coming to an end soon, and my parents came into my room to talk to me one night (as I was going through flash cards for Spanish). My mother began by saying, “We’re so proud of you, and all the hard work you put into your schooling. You’re father and I wish we had as much enthusiasm for our assignments as you when we were your age, but…” “You need to live a little son!” My father interrupted. “High school is just around the corner, and we’re very worried that you’re going to miss out on the best four years of your life!” I stared at the both of them blankly for a moment. I’ve never really had any friends that I could recall. Maybe they were right. “I won’t have as much time to study. What if my grades slip?” I asked. Mom answered, “You’re a very talented young man. You can excel in school just fine without locking yourself in your room every day.” “Yeah, don’t be afraid to get into a little trouble every once in a while.” My dad sarcastically added. I laughed and said, “This is great! I’d love to try something different!” They both smiled and told me to just be myself. Summer came. Instead of studying for the classes I’m going to be taking next semester, I could go to the pool and see if there was anyone I knew there. I saw a lot of kids my age having a good time. I didn’t know anyone though. I swam around on my own for a bit, and thought “This isn’t very fun, I need to go over to those kids and see if I could hang with them.” I went over not thinking it through, “Hey! You guys want to play?” They looked at me like I was stupid and laughed so hard one of them nearly drowned. “Play? How old are you? Ten?” One of them said provoking more laughing. I felt stuck on how to respond. I just got out of the pool, grabbed my belongings, and ran home. I went straight to my room, and that is where I spent the rest of my summer. Freshman year had begun, and I wasn’t expecting my out of school social life to change. It being the first week of school, there wasn't much to do but learn the teachers’ and other students’ names. I quickly noticed that another student by the name of Johnny Caldwell was in all of my classes and was assigned to sit by me in nearly half of them. We joked about it a lot and were constantly talking. We even got yelled at a few times for talking too much in class. Never before have I bonded with another person like this. In our last class on Friday, he asked if I wanted to go to the park with him and a couple other kids to hang out after school. I was ecstatic and quickly accepted the invite. I was having a good time, but I felt uncomfortable because I wasn’t too familiar with the other guys. Robert and Josh were their names. Robert asked, “Hey, you guys want to smoke?” as he pulls out a marijuana joint. Everyone was quick to say yes, while I was hesitant. I didn’t want to come off as lame like I did at the pool, so I just said sure. I mean from what I read about pot is that it isn’t as bad for you as other types of drugs and can actually help you in certain ways. My dad even told me, “Don’t be afraid to get into a little trouble every once in a while.”
After taking a few hits, the uncomfortable feeling went away and was replaced with a feeling of happiness that I had never felt before. We laughed non-stop and everything just felt bright and beautiful. It was as if a switch was flipped to make the day better. The ritual continued. We would smoke, talk for about an hour, walk to taco bell, or go see a movie almost every Friday night. My parents (not knowing I was smoking weed) were thrilled for me to find some friends to hang out with and even allowed them to gather at my house to play video games and stay the night. Johnny was constantly by my side and it was obvious to everyone that he was my best friend. The first report card was mailed home and I was scared to death when I opened it. I had all A’s except in one class. I had a B- in algebra. Not only was it a B, but it was nearly a C. I handed the report card to my father with my head down low. I wish I could have held my head lower, like in the dirt or something. He looked up at me with the biggest pie eating grin I had ever seen and hugged me. He shouted upstairs to my mother, “Honey! He got a B! A B minus!” She flew downstairs and the both of them laughed immensely at the single letter on the paper. “Aren’t you guys mad at me? That is the lowest grade I’ve ever gotten.” Mom replied with, “Sweetie, you’re happiness is more important to us than a single letter on a page. Keep doing what you are doing!” They then hung it on the fridge as a symbolic joke. I began to realize its time I really need to just focus on being happier with life and stop caring so much about the future and enjoy the now. I mean you’re only young once, right? I had just finished my freshmen year with a 3.6 GPA. Summer was full of adventures with Robert, Josh, Johnny, and I. We would go to parties, do a little drinking, hang out with older crowds, talk to cute girls, and always staying high with no coming down. Sophomore year was about to begin and we had all decided to go camping by the lake up north to enjoy ourselves for one last time this summer. We had our blankets, pillows, food, music, a big bottle of Jack Daniels, and four blunts. It was one of the most fun thing we’ve all ever done together, and it was about to get even more fun. Robert Had brought with him some hallucinogenic mushrooms for everyone to try. It was the only other drug we would have done besides marijuana, but not everyone was quick to try it. “Is it safe?” “What does it do to you?” “I don’t know if I’m up for this.” We all argued aloud. Robert had told us that he had tried it with his older brother, and assured us that it’s not anymore harmful than weed, it just makes you feel really high, and sometimes you hallucinate. We all looked at each other and decided to go for it. I was the first to try fallowed by Robert, Johnny, and then Josh. Johnny, Robert, and I were clearly having a great time. The colors were bright and words we spoke were distorted and sometimes seemed to be said backwards. I turned over to Josh, “How are youuuu gnileef maan?” He was hunched over curled up in a ball with his face flat on the ground. We all laughed at him and were putting him on his side to make him more comfortable, but that’s when I went into a realistic dream like state. When night came it felt as if we were camping on a moving comet somewhere in the universe and I couldn’t help but just stare into the stars as they flew by us. It was obvious that we have made another ritual for the four of us. Johnny, Robert, and I would always put our money together to get a few grams of shrooms to do almost every weekend. Josh started to become distant to us, I believe he started to come to his senses and steer away from our crowd. None the less, we had a good time without him. The three of us had each other. We had our bowls, and we had our fungus. Experimentation with other drugs became much discussed among us. Johnny found a girl who would give us nearly free acid tabs. Robert’s brother became a coke, heroine, and meth dealer. He was very open with giving him whatever he wanted to try. Acid gave us all beautiful visions and made the colors stand out as if everything was a neon sign. Coke gave me insane amounts of energy and it would often cause a fist fight between Johnny and me. After we were done beating each others' asses, we would just laugh it off and smoke weed. I never got into the meth or heroine because I knew that a drug like that could permanently change me forever. Johnny and Robert didn’t mind that at all and instantly got hooked on them. As I was about to head out to go over to meet up with Johnny and Robert one weekend, my dad called me into the living room as I was walking out of the door. Not thinking anything was wrong, I went in there as requested. “What’s up?” I asked. “What is it that you and your friends do for fun Salem?” The way he said it, so monotone, I instantly knew he knew. “Just hang out.” I said stupidly. “uhhhhh-huhh, do you use these?” He opened my book bag violently and emptied it on the coffee table. Revealing a pipe, a bag of weed, shrooms, acid, some coke, and a razor. “Those aren’t mine! I swear!” I was clearly lying. “Here, keep them.” He said. I was confused. “Grab anything else you might need. Clothes, toothbrush, blanket, pillow, and a few snacks. You are going to walk out of that door and never show your face around here again. Your mother and I knew that something was up with you, and just before we were going to question you, I found these things. Now leave, I have nothing left to say to you.” I grabbed my belongings and went out the door not feeling a single emotion in my bones. It was bizarre how he was able to say what he had just said so calmly, like it didn’t even matter to him. My lack of emotions was really helping me through the moment. I should have been freaking out not knowing what to do with my life, but I knew Johnny would be able to help me out somehow. After I made it to Johnny’s, I told him what had just happened. “Yeah maan, my parents are alwayyyyss on mee about that.Weee should save up some hsac and get our own place.”
We did just that. After a couple months of going to work more than school, we had finally made enough money to support ourselves at some janky apartment complex. It smelled and there were complimentary holes in the walls. However, it did what it was supposed to do. It gave us a place to stay and we were very proud of that.
Life wasn't to bad at this point, but I began to wonder, is this it? Is this what the rest of my life consists of? Am I ever going to go anywhere in life? The questions would constantly run through my head. The only thing that would silence the questions was more drug use. What once was just a weekend thing turned into a few times a week, once a day, then finally multiple times a day. I would smoke in the car everywhere I went. When sitting down at a meal, I would do a quick bump.
Life was becoming a blur to me, and in my senior year just before winter break. I was caught in the bathroom by an administrator with a two lines on the sink ready to go. All my coke was confiscated (over $100 worth), I was immediately expelled, and I was given a felony charge for the amount I had on me. Bail was $1500 and the person who paid to set me free was nearly a stranger now; Josh. He then took me out to lunch to talk about how things have been for us.
He was a manager at a near by Ihop and for an eight-teen year old, he was doing quite well for himself. Still living with his parents, keeping a 3.5 accumulative GPA, making about $2200 a month working full time, planning for college, and not to mention he is drug free. I looked at him like he was some kind of super hero for doing so well. I told him how my life is alright, how Johnny and I managed to get an apartment together... and I went blank. I couldn't think of a single positive thing going on in my life. He told me that rehabilitation is possible, and that its not to late for me to get a second chance at life.
The task didn't seem to be nearly possible for me. School was over for me, I'm a disappointment to my family, I have a felony charge on my record, my bank account has -$334.22 in it. Drugs are the only thing that make me feel alive.
I thanked Josh for all that he did and I tried to pay for the meal, but he pulled out a $50 bill and told the server to keep the change (we had only spent $23). I saw this a kick and the face and now I believe hes just showing off, I cussed him out in front of the whole restaurant and all he did was look at me with a shake of his head. I walked out from the restaurant and went home with an enraged emotion that quickly turned into a deep depressing state. I got in the apartment and began to fill a bowl to clear my head, but stopped myself. “I need to... clear my head.” I said aloud to myself. I went to my bedroom closet and reached for my rifle. A lever-action Winchester 30-30 that my dad had gotten for me when we used to go hunting together a long time ago. I loaded a 30-30 round into the chamber and aimed the barrel straight up into my mouth with my finger resting on the trigger. It scared me, the idea of not moving, breathing, thinking, seeing, feeling, tasting, or hearing anymore. I laid there in my thoughts for a few hours while johnny was tweaked out of his mind in the other room. I tried several times to squeeze the trigger. It was only a 5 LB pull, but to me it felt like 100.
I had given up on it, but tried again almost every night. I could never go threw with it. Then one night I managed to pull the trigger all the way back, but only to hear a click because I had failed to chamber the bullet properly. My heart seemed to stop and it was as if I had died. I pictured a family in my head. A beautiful wife, two daughters, and a nice house that seemed to be financed properly. Then came the husband... me.
Is it really to late for me? I can seek help. I can be the successful young man I once was. They're programs out there to help people like me get back on their feet. I can still get a GED. I bet my parents would help me if they saw me trying. I will get through this nightmare. I just gotta get back to doing what I did best: working hard.