I am so completely over you and your bullshit. I have put up with it for YEARS. Read: YEARS. Not just a few months. I have supported you through EVERYTHING. I was there while you were getting high and just barely working enough to get your next fix. I was there while you were on suboxin maintenance and getting high at the same time as well. I was there while you were locked up- I visited you EVERY day there were visiting hours. I got cute and walked in looking nice and took the awful crap from the guards who decided I needed to be ‘frisked’. I went to every court date and sat right in the front row and cried when they threw the cuffs on. I answered every phone call from the jail and made sure I was home for it, and if I couldn’t be I would let you know the day before. I drove you to work and to pick up your fucking fix when you didn’t have a license. I gave you THOUSANDS of dollars when you didn’t have it. I paid your phone bills, for your drugs, for your truck. You stole money from me and I still forgave you. I walked in on your passed out one two many times from shooting up just a little too much. I took care of the needles and whatever your left all over the counter or the table and made sure you were comfortable-and alive. I drove you to detox and let you get high one last time before you went in. I drove twice a week to Brockton to drop off packs of cigarettes, which I paid for with my own money, over an hour and a half each time. I went to each visiting hour in detox. I went almost two months with answering every phone call you made from there. I brought books and pictures and little things to make you happy. I stayed home and took care of your parents and the house. You went to the halfway house and I drove there for six months, every day I could, around my schedule to visit you. I went to meetings with you and celebrated your anniversaries. I paid for dinners and outings and donations. I brought food for your sober house buddies every night that I closed the store. I paid to put your friend who was still using up in a hotel because you asked me to. I drove people to meetings and took them out for coffee at least twice a week, without asking for any payment back. I sacrificed, and continue to, my time, myself, my money.
And how did you return these favors?
You got high at my grandmother’s funeral. You did not pay me back. You let bills pile up that had my name attached to them. When I was going through chemo, you let me attend appointments alone. You never held my head over the toilet while I threw everything I ate up or asked why I was bawling my eyes out in the shower because my hair was falling out. I detoxed off of benzos by myself, and you were not there for any of it- you didn’t even acknowledge how difficult it was and still is. My anniversaries were not allowed to be celebrated because your sober house friends were not allowed to know that I was an addict too. Every time I asked to spend time with you, just US because it never happened because you were either busy or high, you make up some excuse as to why you’re so busy- the truck needs to be worked on, I have work in the morning, I have to do laundry, I have to go here or there, I have errands to run, I have to take my roommate out instead. You let me go pick up drugs by myself. When I had a seizure for the first time, you did not take me to the hospital because we had to go to your friends house anyways, otherwise you would not have gotten the kpins and the dope. I stayed loyal and a good friend and a good girl and a good person through the ENTIRE THING.
Now when I ask to spend time, it’s like the end of the fucking world. No I cannot have the time. YOU come first. YOU have ALWAYS come first.You come first and decide that I cannot. So go fuck yourself. Seriously, go fuck yourself. I am done. I put in SO MUCH effort and time and energy and compassion. And you can’t even be a good friend in return, even when you’re over six months sober now. I will not attend your meeting where you get your chip. I will not bring treats for you and your friends. I will not drive there to visit you. I will not give anyone rides or pay for coffees. I will not help you. I will not answer my phone. I will not care when something stresses you out.
Go fuck yourself. Once you take away the addiction, the addict is still a fucking awful person. At least with your case anyways. At least I know I’m a better person now than I was then.
Derek was buried yesterday.
At the wake it didn’t even look like him. It was just a shell of a person, his spirit was gone completely and he had a funny look on his face like it was tight.
It looked like he had just shot the dope and the high was setting in and he could feel that it was something strong but didn’t expect he would die from it he just thought it would feel good. That’s what it really looked like but I didn’t want to think that’s what it was.
It is very hard to accept the fact that that is the truth. I miss him a lot and how funny he was and how sweet he was to me. He always told me he liked my shoes and wanted to go buy new sneakers sometime. He was the best person to go to meetings with and get ice cream with after.
I remember one day we were sitting in the truck and talking about if something disastrous happened he would save me. He would pick me up and run away as fast as he could. He said he would always protect me, no matter what, and I think he really meant it and wasn’t kidding because of the look on his face and the way he said it kind of quiet. I remember it because it made me smile.
My heart is sad and I cried really hard on the way home by myself. I pulled over and screamed at the sky and it felt really good to cry that hard. I am still sad. He didn’t deserve to die. But that’s what happens. I now know that my sobriety is the best decision I have ever made. I have lost two very special people to me this year now. One is the result of drugs. I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to leave behind people who love me, or miss out on my kid’s or sibling’s graduations or weddings, or my friend’s important moments, or not be there for someone who might need a hug or a hand to hold. Or to follow through on promises made and have the chance to say I am sorry.
I think Derek will still always protect me. I think he has not forgotten me or his family or his other friends and a piece of him is with all of us. I also think he has the best sneaker collection ever now, and is finally ok with the scars on his arms.