I Was Born Sick, But I Love It; My Battle with Drug Addiction


I can’t tell you the exact age I was when I came to this realization but I always knew I was born sick. From the very beginning, I never had a choice. I guess I accepted the fact that this darkness always had, and always will, live inside of me. 

Perhaps thats why it was only a matter of time before the disease of addiction took over my life and there was no hope or chance in stopping it.

For as long as I can remember I’ve always had this unsettling void deep down inside of me. I assume it explains all of my completely insane, risky, and totally dangerous activities I voluntarily participated in, from meaningless sex with random guys before the age of 16, to shooting dope with whoever I could find just to avoid being alone. 

You could say I was raised in a pretty typical mid-class American home in San Antonio, TX. When I was 8 and in 3rd grade my parents finally purchased a home big enough for all of my siblings and I to have our own rooms. After years of living in cramped 1-2 bedroom apartments and duplexs where my parents were always housing more children than they conceived, this new house was a nice break from the normal pairing of 2 to 4 kids per bedroom. 

I always remember the first night we spent in that house. It reeked of fresh paint, dirty carpet and HEAVY Marlboro cigarette smoke. Prior to my dad having a stick up his ass, he used to allow my mom to smoke cigarettes inside & that night,the family friend who painted the new house for us was chain-smoking while painting. You can only imagine how this made the house smell, for years.


Oh those were the days, my father still slanging just to make ends meet and my mother still had friends from around the neighborhood

On weekends all of their friends would huddle up around our glass dining room table with their decks of cards, endless packs of cigarettes, all of the beer and rum they could afford and of course, the one thing that was unfamiliar to me back then, the night supply of blow. I can remember always getting frustrated that my mom wouldn’t allow me to jump in her lap & be her partner for the card games. It was always a lengthy, drawn out process for me to be allowed up there, if at all.

The new neighborhood we moved into was much nicer than the last. The houses had individual mailboxes and for the first time in my life, we had our own 2 car garage & didn’t share a driveway with our next-door neighbor. 

I mention this as I look back on where it all started and it’s a bit ironic to me that my parents moved us to a wealthier side of town, with much better schools in our distract and a pretty swanky neighborhood to improve our lifestyle. Little did they know, my sister and I would soon be on a path to out of control, disrespectful, full blown juvenile delinquent drug addicts.

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