I’m a drug addict. Though I don’t use drugs any more, I know that I’m a drug addict. Because there are no former drug addicts among us. Inside our mind we remain drug users forever, we remain cellar-dwellers, hopjoint regulars, cheap thieves lusting for a dope.
I have been cured. My remission has been lasting for two years. The traces of my youth colored with drug addiction have almost disappeared. It's no laughing matter – I became an inhalants addict when I was 17. The farther in, the deeper… Drug using was everything for me… But now I’m ok. Mother is happy. Even my dad gave up drinking, or more exactly he got coded against alcoholism. He said he did for me – in order not to show me an example. But I’m 23 already, thank Heaven. I’m not a little kid. I understand what things are in the real world.
The main thing in my life is that I still have this life. I could die many times. Someone wanted to kill me many times. Once I almost committed suicide. My friends “were lucky”. They managed to kill themselves. I failed. I just couldn’t do it, though I terribly wanted to do so. In fact, it was I who killed them? Young guys of 20. It’s the irony of fate, indeed…
Another evening… Another damp cellar… My two friends and I suffer form a withdrawal a bit. No mood. No future. I thought: “Why do I live for?” Then there were many sappy thoughts, sappy talks with my friends. In short, the outcome was as follows: we decided to put an end to all this. Well, not to say “we decided”… I suggested it, I insisted, they agreed. Not to quit drugs, to down this life. We made it up how to die with grace – die of overdose, in bliss and delight. Everyone had to give a jab to another one. The last one was to give a jab to himself. We cast lots. I turned out to be the last one. I was glad. I thought it would be easier…
Well, I won’t keep it long. They managed to do it. I failed. I couldn’t. I held the syringe needle close to my vein…. Then I reduced the dose and hit up. When I came round, my friends were dead. I got up and left. It is still my secret… A terrible secret…
After that, I had been using drugs for a year, in other companies. But I couldn’t live on like that. Suisidal thoughts often visited me. I understood that next time I would go as far as to kill myself. There were two ways out: to quit drugs or to put an end to this life… I don’t know who should thank for it, what helped me to quit drugs, but I have chosen the first option. I misremember how exactly I managed to got out of that ditch…
I killed two people. I survived. I’ll never return there. There is only one chance like that in my life.
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