Am so tired of blogging about my health! It sucks to get sick when you are vacationing, especially after two years. I feel that am doomed. Though my health is improving slowly, I just wish it would go away and let me have some damn fun. What really sucks is, I feel so good one moment and within a minute my temperature drops down so low that I feel as if am sitting naked in the North Pole. I can’t risk going out with that problem. The good part is in the last 24 hours I had that North Polish thing only twice. Guess am recovering.
Forget about my health, today I want to share something that has been rotting inside of me for four years. I have done so many things that I regret but nothing can compare to this. There isn’t a single day that this thing hasn’t haunted me. Everyday I wish, if only I could turn back the hands of time!
(This is the longest blog post I have ever written. You may find it boring but please take some time to read it. Am sure you will get to enjoy a glimpse of my life and some mistakes that you dare not make)
My best friend was Ric, he died four years back, 29 April 2005. It was a Friday and our janitor found him dead near our school soccer field. According to the medical report, he died of drug overdose. No one in our town was shocked. Everyone knew he was going to die sooner or later. Ric and I were best of friends since kindergarten. Am an introvert and its tough for me to make new friends, to top it I feel that a person does not need many friend. So in my whole life I had only four friends. I know lots of people but am talking about friend who you can even trust them with your life.
Ric was someone I could trust with my life. My folks never liked him. They were always against us hanging out together. Because we never did anything good, when together. There were times when my folks would just say it straight in his face, not to enter our home. I don’t even blame my folks for their action. After all, getting drunks, getting into street hassles, punk class and drugs were all we could think of when we were together. Ric and I were someone that any parents won’t want their kids to hangout (another reason why I had fewer friends).
We did so many things together both good and bad, though we were mostly into bad! Drugs was one of them. The time we reached 16 we were into painkiller. Gradually we got promoted to higher, tougher drugs. It’s really tough to meet the expenses when you are only 16. We start lifting shops for drugs. Unfortunately one night Ric was caught red handed by cops while lifting a shop. I escape because I was late and Ric could not wait for me and he did by himself. He ended up in Juvenile Correctional Centre for 6 months.
We had such a reputation that there was not even a single soul in our town who haven’t heard about us. We were popular not because we were the hippest kids but because we loved doings whatever we wanted in life. We would punk class, get drunk, do drugs, shop lift, beat up almost everyone who stared at us and the list goes on…
But I don’t regret these deeds. I would give anything to relive those days with some alterations. What I regret is doing drugs and how I ended up teaching my best buddy how to use needles? We were just into pills, but I learned how to inject drugs from a seasoned druggie. I thought my best friend how to use needles. Then irony is I quit drugs some months after I taught him. Just after one year and about two months he died. If I did not taught him he would be alive today. Pills are very harmful but compared to needles its nothing.
The night he died, he came to my place asking me to accompany him to our old school soccer field. He was telling me, we’ll have beer and you can watch me get high. He had this habit of teasing me, when I decided to quit drugs. Even when I was struggling to quit I would still hang out with him (unlike many who would stay away from a druggie) just to test whether I can resist the urge, plus he was my best friend. But I don’t know why I declined his invitation. If only I would have gone with him, he won’t be dead today. That’s what I believe.
I was almost completely clean when he died. After this I decided to completely change my life. It was not that easy. Even today I feel like doing drugs sometimes, but am more wise, strong and brave to say no!
In order to ease my pain and my guilt, I have been working with various social worker in my area to help druggies quit drugs for almost two years. But every time I meet a druggie, he/she remind me of Ric.
So this post is a tribute to my best buddy, a confession and an example to all the druggies out there, who does not know what drugs can do to your life.
(By the way, Ric was 21 when he died. When ever I met his mom she would breakdown, as I remind her of him)