Trigger Warning: Drug Use

Welcome back Fellow Warriors, 

Let’s dive right in:

When I moved into my new apartment in the middle of December,  it was unusually warm with leaves of orange and yellow crumbled on the ground still wet from rain, but not covered by snow. I am moving just two weeks after his phone had been cut off. It had been quick but necessary, my landlord told me the townhouse the way it was, wasn’t habitable. 

A fresh start I thought. Perfect. It’s the perfect thing I need. Clean and sober,  I quickly found an amazing place that my landlord owned which meant I wouldn’t have to pay last month’s rent and I could move in immediately. It worked out perfectly. I was leaving the old life behind for a new purpose in my own home with a new life. I wouldn’t tell anyone where I was going. Nobody would know where I lived. 

I lived there for 3 days. 

He messaged me. 

My vision doubled. 

He messaged again. 

My hand went numb. 

My throat went dry. 

I couldn’t swallow. 

I couldn’t read. 

Thoughts in my head running rampant, tore apart every fragile fragment of my inner core that I had put back together haplessly with random bobby pins I found laying on my floor, the ends of scotch tape rolls in my junk door, and bits of gum the neighbourhood kids stuck in my hair when I was too high to notice. 

An hour later … he was in my apartment. I was high. He was still beautiful. That first hug was like a drug in itself. His voice my own personal heroin. 

His presence in the apartment made me feel safe. His being made me feel rejuvenated. His crazy made my crazy feel okay. That night together I just basked in his eyes; I let the high take me away from the world; I got lost in a land of make-believe dark fairytales where he was perfect and so I was and we were not addicts … we were 2 lost souls who found each other inside the other enhancing our worldly experiences with magic crystal that made it that time both stood still and, went forward at the same time; where any kind of past pain was non-existent; where we had no rules; where we were invincible; where we had no use for normal human needs; where we could be as we wanted; where we could be who wanted…

Where we could be Superheroes in our own World. 

The sunset on that day… and rose on another… and set again… and rose again… how many moons went by, I don’t know… 

A beautiful full moon sat swinging in the midnight black sky. Soft snowflakes glittering in the distance caught my eye only to melt on the warm ground down below. I sat at my window as he slept, sober now, watching the night grow deeper into the time on the clock in which the poets, the drug dealers, the broken-hearted, the addicted, the lost, the ladies of the night, and the forgotten come out of the shadows, the streets now run by their rules. 

People down below straggled by on the sidewalk. My mind wandered back to the night we met: the purple of the sky; the smell of cut grass; the desire for dope replaced by pure natural desire. I couldn’t wait to be in the Utopia that was US

He was a bit different this time.

I noticed it right away. 

Or maybe it was my apartment.

I’ll blame the apartment. 

Ya… for sure it’s the apartment.

It’s the layout. 

It has to be the layout…. it IS a weird layout… 

I’ll just do more meth!! He’s got tons! 

Nothing is going right. We are always fighting. He keeps leaving. I am just getting high by myself and waiting for him to come back… but when he does come back… he is a whole different drug for me. It’s my own fix when he walks in the door. I’ll wait forever. I don’t care that he’s cranky… he’s beautiful… he’s been through a lot in life… I’m pretty hard to handle too… I can make him happy… I can make his soul feel lighter… together we will rise… maybe we should get clean… maybe not. 

I’m seeing signs. I ask him straight out. Yes, he is schizophrenic. I fall in love so deeply that I don’t know if I will ever be able to let go of this man. He is one of a kind beautifully broken soul I’ve connected with. I have so many mental health diagnoses that I can’t even list them. We belong together. This proves it. Schizophrenia… I can deal with that… I love that about him… that’s what makes him so beautiful… that is what makes him so special. 

He kissed me. He kissed me!

It was so sweet. It was so gentle. It was perfect. It was the moment I hadn’t thought about once. It was the moment that I’ll remember forever… we weren’t high… we were happy… we were laughing… we were cooking… we were just being. Kodak Moment. 

We stayed clean for a couple of days… we fought… we got high… we fought. A very good friend of his came over to visit… we all got high… he & I fought in front of his friend who decided to leave. 

I was pretty pissed off…I said some things…he said some things… He decided that night he was leaving too… he went to his friends… his friend made him sleep in the car. 

At 6 am I woke up to a call: 

        “I love you… can I come back please?” a golden gruff voice purred at me. 

He was there by 7 am. 

He was asleep by 7:15 am. 

He had left me meth… I got high. My mind started turning. The fight was stupid… or was it? I couldn’t even remember… or did I?… I got so high, that my thoughts blurred… when I finally came down I looked around my apartment… all the tattoos of addiction and depression were scrawling the walls, the floors… my YouTube video history… my Facebook page… and my own face.  I had made up the perfect Utopia where Sugarcoated Candy Canes and Dancing Unicorns brought me Golden Apples while I happily held hands with my blue-eyed perfect-match made in Heaven, singing perfectly on pitch through life in a chocolate milkshake Lazy River, while super high on the most perfect meth ever… 

It was magical. It was natural. It was spiritual. 

In reality… it was chaos. It was need. It was addicting. It was confusing. It was beyond abnormal… 

It was the love of my life… 

I went into the bedroom, kicked the bed as hard as I could, yelling to get out of my bed. I had been used by men. I had been taken advantage of by men. I had been told I was loved to get what they wanted by men. I had fallen for lines before from men. Evil Angel came out to show her horns!! 

Evil Angel was not in the mood to play nice either. Everything he had ever done suspiciously was brought into play at this moment… every ounce of doubt was brought into the ring of fire… every reasonable reasoning behind Evil Angel’s decision to wake him up in that manner was laid out perfectly clearly and concisely for him to understand in a tone made to impress these words into his mind for life. 

He came to play though too. 

All Hell broke loose. 

Screaming at each other in languages we didn’t even know. 




Me against him … 

Him against me … 

I was seeing red… my vision tunnelling… I stared at him… 

He stared back… his blue eyes black… breathing unnaturally fast… 

5 minutes later… he was gone. 

No trace of him ever being there except fine traces from the last lines of meth I had done. 

5 minutes after that…

I realized… 

He told me… he wished I would burn in Hell… 

 I told him… I’ll keep this from being too graphic… 


He was the Love of My Life.

My phone buzzed… 

The text read: 

“I used you! I hate you! You’re disgusting!” 


I dropped my phone. It shattered. 

I shattered. 

The sobs that started were silent at first … slowly they became louder … until they were gutturally piercing … eventually becoming more animalistic than human… by then I was pasted to the floor… I was sure I was super glued there… I was sure there were weights on top of me keeping me cemented in place… I cried… and cried… and cried… 

Tears are the words that need to be written.
- Paulo Coelho

Always Got Your Back 

Angel Warrior 1Thousand