Is This Worth Fighting For?
One true friend
Dear Diary,
It’s so unbelievably hard.
I can see their hearts breaking every single time they even so much as glance at me, their eyes filling with tears as they see me sprawled out across the floor, zoning in and out of consciousness and the looks of pure disappoint; the thing that’s so much worse than anger.
I go to the extremes to try and give the heroine up, but it’s like a shadow that’s hovering over me. I can’t escape it! But even if I manage to go a day or so, I always go crawling back. I don’t feel safe without it. I can’t get out of bed in the morning without it. It’s the one thing that keeps me going.
Thing is I’ve heard it all, I’ve had people screaming at me that I ruined my life, that I ruined all the potential I had to succeed, to have a brilliant life, a life that my parents gave up for me. That’s why I turned to drugs though! There was so much pressure for me to succeed, so much stress piling up on top of me, everyone expected me to be amazing, to be the best at everything and never to falter. It was like they didn’t realise I was only human, that I needed that break every so often, that break that I never got. They pushed me into a spiralling pit of depression; they made my mind split with all the taunting thoughts that ran around, with all the terrible thoughts of things that went on in the world. However those only made the taunting come back, about how I would change that one day.
Thing is I know I would never have been able to do that.
I’ve often been told that my life would be so much better if I gave everything up, but they don’t know what it’s like to be me. They haven’t experienced that sensational feeling when the drugs get to work, that feeling of everything in the world being right, of nothing mattering and of everything being how I want it to be. It’s those times that I treasure the most now, they mean that I have no worries what so ever, that all the guilt had gone from me, where no matter what I’ve done I can just forgot.
I’ve done some terrible things to be able to pay. It wasn’t too bad to start with, borrowing a tenner, selling some old junk that I’d never use anyway or maybe just stealing the tiniest bit of money from mum and dad. Rapidly it’s got worse, I’ve stolen electrical goods from anywhere, I’ve got hold of anything that I can sell for a bit of cash... I’ve even loaned my body out to people, I was violently sick after, but the heroine made it all better again. Like it does every single time.
People are always so quick to point the blame, to point out when you’re in the wrong or when you’ve done something so terrible it’s beyond repair. Thing is they never hang around for the reason, they never stay to try and support you, to try and help, to listen and to try and pull you through the times that they need you most. My parents are a perfect example of that, they told me it was them or the drugs and as soon as they saw me pause for even a moment to think, they tossed me out of the house.
I have no real friends, I just have fake friends, friends that let me occasionally sleep on the floor in exchange for something else. No one is keeping me on this earth, the drugs are pulling me through my darkest of hours, but I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore. I’m pretty sure it’d be a weight off everyone’s mind if I ceased to exist.
My life support had been with me through the lows and the highs and it’ll continue to be there for me...
The only true friend I have.
It’s so unbelievably hard.
I can see their hearts breaking every single time they even so much as glance at me, their eyes filling with tears as they see me sprawled out across the floor, zoning in and out of consciousness and the looks of pure disappoint; the thing that’s so much worse than anger.
I go to the extremes to try and give the heroine up, but it’s like a shadow that’s hovering over me. I can’t escape it! But even if I manage to go a day or so, I always go crawling back. I don’t feel safe without it. I can’t get out of bed in the morning without it. It’s the one thing that keeps me going.
Thing is I’ve heard it all, I’ve had people screaming at me that I ruined my life, that I ruined all the potential I had to succeed, to have a brilliant life, a life that my parents gave up for me. That’s why I turned to drugs though! There was so much pressure for me to succeed, so much stress piling up on top of me, everyone expected me to be amazing, to be the best at everything and never to falter. It was like they didn’t realise I was only human, that I needed that break every so often, that break that I never got. They pushed me into a spiralling pit of depression; they made my mind split with all the taunting thoughts that ran around, with all the terrible thoughts of things that went on in the world. However those only made the taunting come back, about how I would change that one day.
Thing is I know I would never have been able to do that.
I’ve often been told that my life would be so much better if I gave everything up, but they don’t know what it’s like to be me. They haven’t experienced that sensational feeling when the drugs get to work, that feeling of everything in the world being right, of nothing mattering and of everything being how I want it to be. It’s those times that I treasure the most now, they mean that I have no worries what so ever, that all the guilt had gone from me, where no matter what I’ve done I can just forgot.
I’ve done some terrible things to be able to pay. It wasn’t too bad to start with, borrowing a tenner, selling some old junk that I’d never use anyway or maybe just stealing the tiniest bit of money from mum and dad. Rapidly it’s got worse, I’ve stolen electrical goods from anywhere, I’ve got hold of anything that I can sell for a bit of cash... I’ve even loaned my body out to people, I was violently sick after, but the heroine made it all better again. Like it does every single time.
People are always so quick to point the blame, to point out when you’re in the wrong or when you’ve done something so terrible it’s beyond repair. Thing is they never hang around for the reason, they never stay to try and support you, to try and help, to listen and to try and pull you through the times that they need you most. My parents are a perfect example of that, they told me it was them or the drugs and as soon as they saw me pause for even a moment to think, they tossed me out of the house.
I have no real friends, I just have fake friends, friends that let me occasionally sleep on the floor in exchange for something else. No one is keeping me on this earth, the drugs are pulling me through my darkest of hours, but I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore. I’m pretty sure it’d be a weight off everyone’s mind if I ceased to exist.
My life support had been with me through the lows and the highs and it’ll continue to be there for me...
The only true friend I have.
♠ ♠ ♠
I wrote it for my PSE homework, seeing as I haven't posted in a while. I decided to put thisup instead.xoxox <3