One, Two, Jump

Going all the way back to day one seems like too much, so I'll spare you the boring nothingness.
Let's start with the day I was introduced to my best friend, Addiction.

The funny thing about addiction is once it's there, it doesn't leave. Once you open that door and invite it in, it's impossible to close completely. Be it alcohol, pills, or otherwise it's like that one thing sticks it's foot in the door and just won't let you forget it.

I don't remember how the idea came into my head, if I had read about it somewhere or just seen the can and picked it up. I can't say that I really remember many things from that part of my life, most of it is blurry at best.

I'm sure you all know what huffing is, by any other name it's all the same. Be it gas, paint, or duster. I am not writing this so that maybe someone will step out and try this. Absolutely not. I have known people that have died doing this. Every time I see the can of duster, it's not a want for it but a fear of it. I remember the taste in my mouth and fear rises up like a heavy black blanket. I almost died, and many days I ask myself why the hell it didn't kill me because it probably should have.

The first time I ever tried it I had found a can on top of my mothers computer desk and took it down to my bedroom. I knew she wouldn't realize it was missing because if we're being honest here, my mom was among the least observant.
I turned on some music and sat down on my bed, pressing the mouth of the can to my lips and pulling the trigger. I took a deep breath and held it for a couple seconds, then let it out. Almost immediately it felt like my head was floating a couple feet above my body and my eyes were minutes behind the rest of the world. Nothing looked or felt right.
Looking back now, I realize it's because I couldn't feel. My sense of touch was gone.

I sat wide eyed, head tilted, mouth gaping on my bed for a moment. I couldn't tell you how long because it felt like minutes, hours, days even. I thought of nothing, felt nothing, my brain had been extracted and set aside like the pit of a cherry.
Once the feeling was gone, I wanted it back almost instantly. It had left nothing but a bad taste in my mouth and I wasn't sure what had happened.
I held the can up to my lips and pulled the trigger again, and again, and again until there was nothing left in the can. It was gone and I wanted more. So much more.

The next day I went shopping with my mother and convinced her that I needed another can of duster because my stereo wouldn't play disks and I had to clean it. She bought two cans, one for myself and another for her computer.
I am sure you can guess what I did with the one she gave me. It didn't take very long for that one to disappear.

The day after that, I was home alone. The can my my had bought for herself sat unopened a top her computer. I didn't think, just acted.
I took it into the bathroom with me and again held it up to my face. The familiar floating feeling came but for some reason that thought crossed my mind to keep it there a second longer. A second too long, I guess because my hands froze. I wasn't able to move them, or maybe my brain was too fuzzy to tell my hands to let go of the canister.
Unable to move, everything went black.

I don't know how long I was out for or what happened while I was swimming in that black pit of nothing. When I woke up there was a mixture of blood and orange vomit on the floor, which is really strange because I don't recall eating anything orange that day. I also don't know where the blood had come from. My nose, mouth, stomach, head maybe.
The thought that scared me the most is that I was home alone when this had happened. If it had killed me I don't know how long I'd have sat for, who would have found me. Obviously in that moment these weren't exactly the things that came across my mind but sitting here now thinking about it in hindsight, what if my little brother had been the one to walk in?

I still shake my head over this. That situation alone should have killed me and I have heard and know of more then just one person it has, in fact, killed. There was no reason I should have woken up from that.
But here we are, and obviously I haven't learned my lesson yet.