To the person I used to know,
The person I used to know was an outgoing girl who was the life of the party. She never met a stranger and always had a way of shaking my shy side and getting me to do all those shocking things I never thought I'd do in my early years. You lived down the street from my childhood home and was one of my first friends here when my family relocated to that little ole town. We were close through middle school and had many times at the public pool, skating ring, or simply finding something to do down the dirt road in our neighborhood with the rest of the neighborhood kids. We lost touch in high school. You continued down a path of boys and risky behavior to fit in and I got involved in school activities, made other friends and plans for my future. When the military didn't work out, you came back into my life. We lived in our first house together and you introduced me to a guy who would later become my husband. Again, you spiraled farther down a risky path to include the same group of troubled individuals and my first encounter witnessing the introduction of drugs in your life. Before I moved to NYC, you called me for help and I tried, you ran. I saw you the other day, or a version of you. I saw your mugshots online. Your face sunk in, your skin knarled with scars from getting lit on fire while you were high, your chin protruding out, your hair disheveled, your eyes popping out without a care, a face of an addicted lost soul. A shell of the young, healthy girl I once knew and looked up to. I always admired your confidence and how easy being social was for you. It made me sad to see how your life turned out. I always loved you, my friend.
The person I used to know was a beautiful, thin, loving girl. I came to know her through my father. Our dads worked together and when we didn't have a place to live as a teenager, her family took us in. It was around Christmas time. She loved the backstreet boys and was a little older then me. She lost her mom around that time. They were close. From that moment on, she became a mother figure to her siblings. She had a natural instinct. She was kind and always had a place for people. When I came home from the military, she offered me my first job and it helped rehab me back to society. She was fun loving. We loved working at the sub shop. We would flirt with the guys that worked the gas station. Little did I know, the guy she had eyes on would eventually get her strung out. She met another man and cleaned up. She had four beautiful children. She battled addiction. I guess that's what drew my dad closer to her. He felt they had a commonality- the same demons, drugs and depression. Addiction drove her closest friends and family away and many gave her tough love, though it didn't take the love they had for her away. Recently, she commited suicide. A lost soul. Life cut much to short. We remember the person she once was and I remember her for the goofy, raw, sweet personality she had.
The third person I used to know is referred to in Loving with Limits.
Addiction and the drug life is a tough one. No one can feel the internal Hell they put themselves through and no one can truly help unless they have the desire to change. I've let these experiences motivate me to be more ambitious and create a better life for my family. I put my faith in Him. I'm not perfect. I make mistakes and ask for forgiveness. I often hear people talk of my hometown poorly due to its poor drug reputation. Life is a choice. Be good to yourself.
