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Struggle of recovery

Updated on June 25, 2017

The last six years, I have been struggling to numb myself of all the pain. Anxious to try anything that will kill the guilt, disgust and sorrow building up inside my head and heart. Consuming my life and destroying my soul. I have convinced myself that I have no reason to live, there is no one, that would care if I slipped away. One year ago today, I was filling the bath tub in my small downtown apartment with scolding hot water. Unwrapping a brand new shaving razor and boiling water in a teaspoon with a lighter to dissolve the heroin. I turned on a song that meant the most and set it on replay. After locking all the doors, I climbed into the bathtub. Submerged my right arm until the veins were visable, pierced my vein with a syringe, pulled back the plunger, saw red and blasted a gram of heroin into my bloodstream. I woke up coughing up water and more dissappointed in myself than ever. Unbuckling the bracelet from my left hand and gripping a razor with my right hand, I traced the blade along my wrist and watched the water turn pink and then red as I slipped away into the warmth. I felt comfort and like things were finally going to be easier.


I awoke in a tub of cold water, feeling more alone then ever.

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