I've been on the site a couple of times a week for a few weeks now, but always reading, never writing. Mostly, I read other stories and think, well, mine is not bad enough, I don't belong here. But the fact that I keep coming back and reading more says something.
I woke up this morning with a hangover, which is unusual, because I don't drink hardly ever, for the specific reason that I hate hangovers. But I drank last night because my old friends are in town now on Christmas break, so we all got together, drank some wine while discussing politics and religion and philosophy, and all the dorky things that we used to talk about in high school; for one night, I acted like I cared again, like I was a normal college student with no problems, who was just drinking with some old friends. That's how I acted. But the entire night (at least up to the point that I remember) I was thinking about how I'd rather be with my new friends, and that's why I drank faster and faster and finally passed out. So when I woke up this afternoon, I came to the conclusion that today I wasn't going to just read anymore, I was going to write.
My dad died 26 August, and I didn't take it too well, to say the least. My dad and I are basically the same person; the definition of Daddy's girl could have been me. His death came only 2 weeks after I got home from 6 months in Germany, where I'd lived with my boyfriend. There are a lot more details, but it's all exposition that's not important to this story.
This happened the second week of the semester, so I emailed my professors and they told me to take as much time as I needed. I only took off a week, which was probably a bad idea, because I was breaking down in sobs every two seconds. But I've always been an over-achiever, and I wasn't about to miss more than a week. So I dove back into the stress of school without being over the stress of daddy's death. I was just miserable. His death was the worst thing in a year of bad things.
Anyway, my boyfriend had quite a few friends that I got along with, one in particular, Renee, who is into coke (although Brian didn't know that, nor did anyone else in that group... they were all very straight people). She knew that I used to do coke once in a while before Brian and I started dating, so she invited me to chill with her one night, just to talk (she lost her father a couple of years ago, so she understood what I was going through), and feel better. There, she introduced me to Nik, her dealer. We split just one gram, and had a couple of beers, and chatted. I gave Nik my number and got his, so I could get a hold of him if I wanted more. But I was broke, so even though I wanted more, I had no means of paying for it, so that was all for a couple of weeks, until Nik called me, and asked if I needed anything. I told him I had no money, he offered me a payment plan, I asked what kind, and he said that he could think of a way to make it free. I was asking for trouble, but I've never thought of sex as a serious deal, and Brian and I were on the outs, so I figured why not, it'd be fun, I like sex, and free blow is just a perk. Except that when I got there, he had a foil ready. I'd never done that before; I actually didn't even know that was technically crack - I thought you had to have rocks to smoke crack (yeah, I'm not the most knowledgeable when it comes to drugs). So I smoked it, and it was most crazy intense feeling ever. I loved it instantly, which for an intelligent girl should have been a warning to stop before it went further, except that I had such a good time, not just smoking, but talking to Nik, that when he called me a couple of days later, I jumped at the chance to hang out. And we didn't do any drugs that time; we just had hit it off so well, that we wanted to get to know each other better. But then after that night we hung out more and more, and about 3/4 of the time we smoked, and I finally had money coming in again, so I was paying about 1/2 the time, 'cause I didn't want it to look like I was just using him for drugs. And then he started introducing me to his friends, and I was smoking crack every time we hung out, and if he was out, he always had some kind of a backup. I've eaten shrooms, dropped acid, rolled a couple of times, and of course smoked weed. I'd smoked weed before, but I'd never done all that other stuff. I went to a couple of snowball parties with him. All of his friends loved me, so these past 3 months I've very quickly become immersed in this world that I never even would have imagined. And I keep telling myself it's a phase, but I also know better than to believe what my head is telling me. I also know that I should stop, but that I'm not ready yet. I know that this is stupid, but right now my head is very much wrapped up in it, so I have to just wait it out until I'm ready to change. But in the meantime, I've joined this site so that once I can truly, honestly convince myself to get out of this, I will have somewhere to turn. And the more I read everyone else's stories, the more I realize the importance of getting out soon.
So I guess I just wanted to say my piece and introduce myself. That's all.
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