Its November 24th. My last Heroin use was 12 yrs ago. But this year, things are different. Heres why
I have never had so much to say about another lap around the sun without that demon in my veins as I do now…so lets go.
I’m raw AF right now because my former fiance/ex boyfriend, a man I spent the first half of my life with, just died of this addiction last month. We basically grew up together. Our love was torn apart by that drug and that drug only. It survived SO MUCH else without even a dent. I got sober 12 years ago, He didn't, but we still stayed in touch. Years went by. He’d always check in with me.
Recently we reconnected- he had gotten clean and had gotten his life together in a city a few hours north from where I am now. We were gonna meet for lunch and catch up-that was the plan. But I was caught up with two jobs and three music videos and running around all over the place, so I figured after things calmed down id have the time. I was wrong.
Christ I dont know if I could have changed anything, but I was so caught up in my own life that guess what, I forgot that we are mortal and can leave this earth at any given second. We dont get warnings. Before I knew it, I was finishing up a night shift, then got a message from his family saying he was dead.
I didnt believe it at first. My mind could not comprehend someone who played one of the most significant roles in my life not being on earth. He isnt supposed to die. No.
I’ll try not to go too heavy into what the fuck its like to have “that person” die. Ive had more people I love die in my life than I can count on hands and toes. But NOTHING could have prepared me for this, and whats crazy is he wasnt even my current partner, we werent together anymore. But when you grow up with someone, they’re “you’re person”, your first love, the only person you ever planned marriage and kids with, the person that youve still to this day never been closer to, holy shit. I dont care if ten days or twenty years goes by, when they die, part of you goes too.
There is a spiritual tie, a soul tie, an energetic cord, that I wasnt even aware of. But when he left, holy shit, I felt feelings that I didnt even know existed, and my lifes been far from a fucking cakewalk, this was next level rabbit hole existential crisis: It’s wanting to go to war with god and find a way to go back in time to change it all, its doing a midnight search on google of “does the CIA hire people with a history of mental illness” (yeah I sound like a real winner, I am diagnosed with PTSD, fuck off) because you want to the CIA to hire you so you can get turned loose on all the cartels bringing this fucking shit into the country and kill everyone until someone kills you, (in hindsight thats kinda funny honestly but it wasnt in the moment) its like that type of rabbit hole shit, but for weeks on end. And no one understands. You dont tell most people any fucking way. It didnt make sense.
Christ I have his picture on my altar now..and having to add HIS FACE to my altar with the rest of my dead loved ones, NO. I still cant look at my altar. People die every year that I love. Its always been that way. But not him.
When you have a “forever person”, and that person dies, you feel like theres been a glitch in the matrix, that something has gone horribly wrong, and you have to find a way to bring them back. Something has gone horribly wrong, and it must be fixed. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I feel it to my core. Theres been some sort of mistake…
I’d gladly sacrifice my own life if I could find a way, a spell, something, anything, to open some fucking portal to go back in time to warn the younger versions of the two of us to NEVER touch that god damn drug; and it didn’t start with heroin, it started with fucking oxycontin.
NEVER TOUCH THAT DRUG. We didnt even know what the fuck it was when it was given to us, I remember us looking it up online, we were so young. I remember us being like oh shit, its addictive, so lets not do it more than a few days in a row. WELL, look how well that fucking worked out.
It was the same line of thinking with heroin. I was trying to buy oxys but the dealer only had heroin. Everyone was switching at that point. I didnt wanna do it initially. But that infamous line….. lets just try it, JUST THIS ONCE. Yeah, we tried it once, and then once again, and again, and again, god knows how many times. All day every fucking day from that point forward, until I ended up getting clean, and when we split I honestly cant tell you what his journey looked like. I know he fought. And I know he was able to get off of it for some time. But in the end, it took his life. So that whole “lets promise each other we’ll only do it once” type shit? look at how it fucking turned out.
I’ll let you know right now, if youre in that situation, you’d much rather be the one dead than the “last man standing”. Theres no pride in that. Its just a glitch in the matrix gone horribly wrong, a failed soul contract, feeling like you yourself need to go out and get heroin to intentionally die so that way if youre both gone, maybe it’ll hit the reset button and you guys can do a repeat life, on some reincarnation shit. Thats where your heads at when youre dealing with this, every second of every day, you see, feel, and hear nothing else.
You are in purgatory. The black mass. the void. You cannot even feed yourself or sleep. You’ll put on a face as best you can to show up for his family obviously, theyre the ones that matter the most in this situation and they must be supported. But other than that…. Fuck everything else. Grief that strong, you do NOT turn your back on it. Even if you do…. Youre still in the void. Theres nothing to turn your back on when youre immersed in an alternate reality. Im describing it as best I can.
After his celebration of life, some sense of healing began… or rather just the next chapter. Im attending grief groups and doing what I can to take care of me, amping up my recovery and my connections with other sober women, getting more exercise, just getting back on my feet and shit. But after his celebration… I dont know dude. I still, even as recent as last night, still catch my mind going into day dream fantasies of him coming back to life. Or literally creating another reality, one where he is here, one where instead of him having relapsed and died, he went into rehab and the rehab worked and he got to be in the recovery community too. I really think lack of authentic human connection is at the root of addiction and thats why its so hard to do it alone, unity and community is everything when youre in recovery.
I wish he could have had that. Its no shade to who his friends were, a lot of those people were my friends from the past, and some of them had no idea he battled the demons he did. No one is to blame for this. I just wish he could have had the experience of being surrounded by other recovering addicts whose primary goal was to recover and stay sober, and everything else in life came second. Thats literally a lifestyle, not just a few friends here and there who have their shit together, its everything. You are 1000% immersed. I wish he could have had that. And I keep imagining a world, a life, where he does.
Ive never done that, created fake scenarios like that after a loved one died. Ive never hunted down people I knew who were religious and sought answers in desperation of “does their god know how to bring people back?” Just maniacally trying to fix this, to get answers, to find a way to bring him back to life, there has to be a way. Well, as far as I know, there isnt. I dont know what happens when you die. We do know that energy does not die. So either his spirit is in a different realm, or hes been reincarnated by now. Bringing what was back to life is not possible, for what was, has already moved on and transformed into something else. Its too late.
So thats the main reason why this year is so fucking hard, so bittersweet. I was out working tonight, one of the ways I make money is driving for a food delivery service. Tonight, I found myself in an apartment complex on the outskirts of town that he and I bought heroin in. I drove RIGHT PAST the exact unit and this complex was huge. I remember it all. It all flashed before my eyes. This isnt the first time my delivery routes have taken me to our old stomping grounds since he passed. Ive been driving deliveries throughout the entire pandemic, but it hasn’t been until he died that I have now been to two locations on the outskirts that we bought dope in, and the hardest one…. An apartment we lived in, on the outskirts of town yet again, I had a delivery there. Not just to that complex, but literally to the unit right across the tiny hall from the one he and I lived in. The doorknob to the one I was delivering to vs the doorknob he and I used to enter our home years ago was probably 5 or 6 feet apart. I have NEVER been back to that complex, let alone that fucking apartment, since he and I moved out. Then it was about a week after he had passed, maybe less, when I found myself there. Then later that day I wound up at a complex we used to get dope in. I was wigged out. Since then, alls been normal on the delivery front, until tonight.
I didnt even realize I was back in these particular apartments until I started having flashbacks and then was like holy fuck this is where x y and z went down. It hurt. In a weird nostalgic way. Not that I want to be a heroin addict again, but in the way of…. He was alive then. We were together then. We were fucked up, but we were still loyal as shit to eachother and literally inseparable. It was us against the world type shit. If only I could go back in time and TELL US WHAT LIED AHEAD. Would even that have stopped it? Now thats a question to really trip out about…. Because I cant say for certainty that it would. But would I give my life to try? yeah.
So its November 24th. 12 years ago was my last heroin use, but November 24th is not my official sobriety date. November 27th is. I’ll tell ya why. November 24th…. I remember exactly where and when I did my last hit of dope. We needed more, and I was also trying to get some Suboxone too because of course, I was always trying to quit. For YEARS. No luck. Great at lying to myself though. But anyway money was needed, a plan was hatched, we went and did some illegal shit and got arrested. (Long story short.)
That saved my life though. Kicking dope cold turkey in jail is fuuuuuuuucked. Highly do not recommend it. Stay the fuck out of jail in general if you can, but regardless, this experience saved my life and got me sober cuz it got me off the damn street and I started to detox in a “controlled setting.”
I dont know what city you, the reader, lives in. But in my city, when we’re at capacity in our jails, people get what we call “matrixed out”. You just randomly get released, no bail paid, nothing, because they gotta make room for violent offenders, so the non violent ones get cut loose. I was arrested for burglary and had no prior record and was pretty young, as was he, so we were among the inmates who were matrixed out the following night. They wouldnt let us get released together though, they put a no contact order on us, we werent allowed to be within two miles of eachother but we lived together, so what the fuck. They release females first because it gets sketchy if it gets too late at night, so I got out a few hours before him. I remember when I was in jail finally having a moment of psychotic heroin withdrawal hell clarity where I was like I NEED TO GO TO FUCKING TREATMENT I DONT GIVE A FUCK WHO FINDS OUT HOW FUCKED UP I AM I WANT OUT OF THIS LIFE NOW. It had nothing to do with my legal case or wanting a lesser sentence or anything like that. It was pure survival instinct. I didnt want to be a slave to heroin anymore.
I got out, smoked some weed and popped some Xanax as I tried to pack my shit outta my house in a frenzy (didnt have much cuz I sold everything I always had for dope but I had a few things I knew id need to take with me to treatment cuz I had decided I was checking myself in.) The weed n Xanax didnt even make a dent in how dopesick I was, but I tried anyway, so thats why my sobriety date isnt November 24th. Its the 27th, the day I checked into detox at a drug rehab. They were able to get me in right away and thats where my journey began. He and I were still together. We didnt break up until I had been in treatment longer and that info I wont include, but we were on separate paths. However we did stay in touch. And I did end up seeing him when I got out. And throughout the years, we’d stay in touch on and off. But it wasnt until this last summer, that we really reconnected. His last Summer on Earth. For in the Fall, on his birthday, eerily enough, he’d pass away.
I remember him before the dope. He was an unbelievably good basketball player, avid music lover, fkn putt me on to sooooo much shit that defined my own musical taste in many ways, I remember when I was a teenager I got locked up for a year and he WAITED FOR ME which is insane- adults cant even stay faithful to eachother- he pulled that shit off in fucking high school! thats the type of person he was. He also taught me how to drive when I got out. And he had lots of CDs he had made for me to catch me up on all the music I’d missed since I’d been gone- where I was, we didnt have music- or contact with the outside world. Visitation? A parent was allowed to see us once every three months for three hours. Thats it. So like clockwork, Dylan would contact my parents on that third month when they were gonna get in to see me for a few hours, and give them a letter to give to me. He never missed. I lived for those letters. And when I came home, he was there, he had waited, he made me all these CDs, and soon I started living with him and his family.
I started working. Finished high school. He taught me how to drive. I still hear his voice in my head sometimes when Im driving on the highway and get overwhelmed with traffic. his family became mine. I lived with them, had holidays with them, shit even he and some members of his fam would come over to my moms place too. We had a genuine real love. And the only thing that can destroy that… is those fucking drugs. You cannot love anyone out of an addiction, if you try, your love will be sacrificed. We all like to say love is the most powerful thing in the world. Maybe. But right now, the power of vice, addiction, and all that it is rooted in, look at the fucking world. Its winning.
The scales are tipped in its favor. So thats the work I have to do now, because im still here and hes not, and im the one now who has this story to tell and these memories of a real love, I know that I have to carry on and dedicate my life to the fight for love and humanity, as the world currently crumbles into a warring tyranny with god fucking knows what on the horizon.
So this is a war. A spiritual war fought in the 3D but powered by the higher realms. Its so hard to explain. Some people will know exactly what the fuck im saying, others will be like what the hell. Well to the “what the hell” people, wait until those 2.4 million truck drivers lose their jobs come January 4th when bidens mandate kicks in and the fucking shelves of every store, including where you buy your food, where you fuel up your car, everything, STOPS. Im talking EMPTY. GONE. NOTHING. It’ll be too late for you then cuz your dumbass isnt prepared. But mine really isnt either. Its so expensive just to fucking live its kinda hard to live plus have money to stock up on shit but im doing my best, eh, we’ll see. If I die I die. I just gotta make shit count before I do.
Only a few nights after Dylan died… maybe two or three.. he came to me in a dream. Music was playing and it was my music, but I hadn’t heard it before. There were three songs. He told me from what I remember, “this is the EP, and it has to be called WHAT I KNOW”. I dont know if im literally going to call it that, but the message was fucking received. Because what I know, is that there is no ONE TIME. What I know, is that real love is unbelievably fucking rare, we hit the jackpot ton our first fucking roll of the dice so we didnt even realize how lucky we were. Ive had many boyfriends since him and I broke up and I have loved some of them, but nothing was like what he and I had. Im not saying it was all sunshine and roses, but nothing was like what we had. How could it be? The shit popped off when I was 14 fuckin years old, not living at home, life in crisis, having all kinds of fucked up shit happen, and here comes… him. And he loved me. He loved me when I felt like the most unlovable worthless thing to have ever walked the earth. He genuinely fuckin did.
When I was leaving his celebration of life, I chose to go with an old friend of mine from high school who also knew him quite well. She is doing great, and is a safe and solid ass person. She was there for almost all of this back then. After we parted ways, she called me about an hour later. She wanted to check on me, and she had been processing some shit herself.
She told me, “you know its just crazy, ive just been thinking, that when you were with him, I always knew you were safe, even when things were fucked up.”
She’s dead ass right. And she’s not the only one who knows that to be true. Many bore witness to what we had over the years. I have never had that again. Ive had very close relationships where we were in love but it wasnt what him and I had- its hard to explain, no two loves are the same, but whatever the hell was going on with me and him… I didnt even realize the magnitude of it until he died.
My entire life flashed before my eyes and for the first time in what, 12 years, since we broke up shortly after I got sober, thats when I processed the breakup. I did not process the breakup or handle it well when it happened. Like I said, I was in treatment, and I was young, and just went speeding into a new life and didnt much look back. Distracted myself. Suppressed things. Never processed the breakup. so when he died it was like…. Reprocessing my entire life. Especially my early come up years, my youth, all spent with him.
I wonder what it would be like to have this conversation with him now. What if we would have actually gotten together in person like we were fucking trying to do. God dammit why the fuck was I so fucking self involved in my music and work. FUCK. What if. And as my asshole friend likes to say, if “if” was a fifth we’d all be fuckin drunk right now, and yeah, my asshole friend is right.
I could “what if” myself straight into a damn psych ward if I dont pull the plug on this entry. So yeah. wow. 12 years ago was the LAST TIME I did heroin. That drug was my fucking world. The only other thing that existed besides heroin was… “him”. My ex. It was us, and that drug. For a very long time. But it wasnt always like that. And thats the shit I want to remember. I wont block any of it out, I’ll take the good bad and ugly, but ultimately, Im going to choose to remember him, because I know his soul. I know him. The him on drugs isnt him, just like the me on drugs isnt me. When that shit is in your system youre like a hijacked plane. Still a fuckin plane, still the same plane, but not the same pilot, and a very different, sinister fucking mission.
What do I know? I know what real love is, I know how to keep it and I know how to lose it. I know that there is no such thing as “just this once”. I know that some spiritual bonds we make with people do not require permission or even awareness to exist and cannot be washed off regardless of how much time goes by, they are forever. I do believe in soul contracts, I do believe in past lives, and depending on how we do here, future ones. He was two years older than me. Maybe, if we’re meant to be reincarnated and live again together, and try this again, and this time not die, maybe in two years I’ll die. And it’ll all make sense. If not, then I guess a whole lot of cycles will have to happen before we catch up with each other again, which is an awful fucking feeling….
I dont know shit really, im just going with what I believe… and yeah- 12 years. Fucking hell. So now you know why I have more to say this year than ever before, and why this is weirder than ever before. When I celebrate 12 years of continuous sobriety on the 27th, that shit will be in HIS honor. Gods honor of course, but also in “his”. I cant say his name just because I don’t know how his fam would feel about me including his name, so thats why I say his or ex. idk. I doubt theyd give a fuck but Idk. When I do say his name publicly im gonna make sure, again, like in the dream, WHAT I KNOW, is that he was this type of soul of pure love and innocence- something ive never experienced with anyone else or seen in any other human, and that will be his legacy, and his name will be spoken….in that light. But not in a blog where im processing death and a sobriety birthday and a dead former love of my life type setting.
I am not just an addict. And neither was he. I guess things had to be the way they are and I dont know why but im a mortal human im not the grand architect of the fucking universe so I dont have all the answers, even though I want them. But damn, what if. What if he was here celebrating 12 years too. What IF. I guess I can just go off of what is. and I will do what he said in the dream. Its not the first time someone who died came to me in a dream. I believe it was him. I will create a project that will tell the true story of, really its what me and him know, what WE know, but he isnt here anymore, so I guess now its just “what I know”. Cuz he is gone. Im gonna make sure that fucking beautiful tragic young love story is told. And I hope to god, for all the people out there that do have someone they love, please, dont let your love die for these unbelievably evil cunning baffling and powerful fucking drugs.
You will think youre the exception to the rule. I promise you will think, “theres no way I’ll end up like that.” Cuz I thought the same shit. Youre wrong. Everyone thinks they are an exception to the rule, and everyone fucking falls. Some get sober, some die, some somehow survive but live horrible lives, shells of who they were, strung out on the streets, endless suffering. Thank god he, my ex, didnt have to do that. I wish he was alive and sober, but there is mercy in death. And we live in pretty fucked off times right now. It’d be nice to have that safe forever person with you again, yall against the world, with no drugs, just each other, god damn how lucky am I that I even got to experience that at all. Most people spend their whole lives looking for that shit, that storybook type love that you think isnt real— but it is….
But some never find it. Now I see why mine and his relationship had such an impact or impression on other people when we were together. We were so lucky. That love is real. It is out there. if you get it, motherfucker you better hold tight. You might not get it again. You dont want to be the last one standing. My last memory of him was at the viewing, where he lie cold on a table in a funeral home. I looked at his body, laying down, kinda scared to approach, like he was gonna pop up at me and say “just kidding!” or try to scare me like it was all a joke, but then I just looked at him. I thought how many thousands of mornings and nights did I lie by his side in that exact same position….. but now, I stand with my hand on his cold chest, and say goodbye, when we are both still young, so much life assumedly left to live.
Who knows. Maybe we’ll all be dead in a few years I have no idea. Maybe whats coming is so fucked that its good hes gonna be spared of having to go through it. I dont know. You can see where my thoughts are literally fucking everywhere and Jesus Christ I just saw that its 3 AM and im supposed to go to this damn grief group in the morning uhgggg ok well guess I gotta go to bed. Christ how is it 3. So yeah, its November 24th, year 12 is here…on the 27th it’ll be full on dead ass official… and he’s gone… and now ive got a mission to complete.
I carry him with me and dedicate this milestone and this 12th year of sobriety to him. Never in a million fucking years did I imagine the scenario of us both not being on the planet at the same time. I look back at all our pictures. If only I could go back in time. But I cant. So the best I I can do, is share what happened, and prevent it from becoming someone else’s future, if one heeds the warning. Christ I hope they fucking will.
You do not want to be the last one standing. You do not want to try to work for the CIA so you can go on a killing spree of everyone who sells dope. you do not want to want to buy heroin and OD intentionally so yall can be together again and hit the reset button on life like its a fuckin nintendo game. you do not want to be searching for answers in a bible or hitting people up who know black magic to see if theres a way to open a portal and undo the shit, which by the way is a HUGE fucking no-no, probably the worst thing you could ever try and do. but you dont want that shit. you dont want to not be able to move, you dont want to not be able to eat or sleep, you dont want to lose all feeling of attachment and care to the world and just float in the void. But you will, if you go down this route.
This shit is not fucking experimental. it only takes ONE time, and you just went and sealed your fuckin fate without even realizing it. I’ll carry on, but you’ll be hearing a lot more from me, and next time it’ll be more clear and organized and I dont know, not a 3 AM outpouring of whatever the fuck. i might be all over the place but its the unfiltered fuckin truth. And with that, I bid you motherfuckers goodnight. Please please please understand love is the most important thing in the world and if you have it, for christ sake PUT NOTHING BEFORE IT - all this worldly fucking noise- its just that- NOISE. It isnt real. Love is. and its all that matters. And its so durable, yet so fucking fragile, just like we are. Just like our existences are. Dont join the “if if was a fifth” club. dont. if you have real love in your life, but things are hard, STOP BEING A BITCH AND FUCKING LOOK AT YOURSELF AND MAKE A CHANGE. If youre in a relationship and its not love, GET THE FUCK OUT so you can stop wasting each others time and make room for the REAL SHIT to come in because trust me, even if you lose it, it is an experience that you will not want to miss.
As his mother told me recently, our pain is a badge of honor, because it means that we got to love him that much. And we were loved by him that much too. So infinitely much.
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