MeantToLive

I have had the flu since Thursday. It really sucks, I've been pretty much bed-ridden, forcing myself to drink Theraflu after Theraflu.

But before this, a bunch of bullshit with California happened. She was my friend, and I trusted her, and I supported her through so much, and then she stabbed me in the back and betrayed me. So now, I don't know what to do, so I'll just hate her back. Two can play at that game, sister.

So, what's the worst thing you can hear from a friend? I ask some people, they say the worst thing is, "I hate you," "I'm going to kill myself," "I hate you," "I hate you."
What is my worst thing? Well, people tell me they hate me, and soon I just get used to it, so it's not one of those things that still makes my heart drop.
"It's a part of me," "It's made me who I am," "It's who I am now," Are some of the variations of the worst thing I can hear. Of course, here I'm talking about substance addiction. These people tell me over and over they don't have a problem and they aren't addicted. Then they say that, and I know there is no hope of getting them back with the little knowledge I have.

Which is why I am going to be an addictions councilor. I am taking four classes next year in psychology related fields, and I'm getting my Program of Study in Mental Health, which should get me a good head start on college. I can heal people and make it all better, make it so all that is part of them is who they are, not any of them is controlled by a substance.




I had to be quiet, he had to be quiet. Convincing him over was easy, getting him here was not. He had to get out of his house, across the street, across another, into our back yard, and through our window. Silently, in the moonlight of three AM in September.
Every move we made, every breath we whispered was hesitant once he was here. He was cold. I threw covers to him, covering his bare shoulders. Why was he here? Why did I need him here? I couldn't remember, but it didn't matter. He was here now.