part one.

The weather was too warm for January. Any spots where there was still snow on the ground quickly turned into a slushy mess, the kind that doesn't come out of your shoes until days after you trudge through the patch of it. I had managed to fake a fever by drinking warm water before getting a dirty thermometer shoved underneath my tongue so I was alone in my dorm. The fact was that I was out of cigarettes and didn't want to walk outside during breaks to see all the lucky kids with packs going behind the gym to indulge in a nice, calm cancer stick. My hands get shaky and I get anxious when that happens.1

My intention was to spend a nice restful day sleeping, but I spent more time on my laptop then I did getting any extra hours of rest in. I blame the Dr Pepper and M&M's I had before the nurse dropped by to check on me and take my temperature. Besides, all I could really think about the whole time anyway was the fact that I was about to get two grams of cocaine for the weekend, which, for a not so wealthy boarding school student, is a rare and wonderful occasion. In fact, I didn't even mind that I was probably going to get ripped off.2

As I so often was at the time, this particular day I became very tired in the afternoon. It was odd, since I'd spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing and the kids who dealt with homework and such all day were livelier than I. So rather than continuing my bullshitting on the computer I curled up with my friends copy of 'Prozac Nation' and read for a bit before dozing off. I was awakened by the ringing of my cell phone, a distorted version of some popular rap song echoed throughout the room until I answered reluctantly. It was Lindsey, a spoiled brat from Greenwich who I had oddly befriended the first day of school, telling me that the product had just been picked up and to meet her, Gina, and Nicole in Nicole’s room down stairs to get a few lines and bumps. I gladly agreed and found myself hurrying down the room that we so often went to when we had cocaine for the snorting.3

Nicole is a tall New York City girl, a real sweetie. At a visit to the city, Gina, Lindsey, and I saw her and spent a wonderful two days drinking and taking in about three eight-balls of cocaine. Who knows how much money was spent in the city, the two days are still a bit foggy to this day. All I know is that it was way too much then 16-year-old girls should be spending on drugs and other mind-altering substances.4

So she opened her door quietly and quickly to let me in so I could join the "party." I took about 5 lines and three bumps before I felt like I'd be good until the end of study hall. I was then I went down to finish off what was left with the girls. 5

This was one of my first experiences with hard drugs. At the time I just wanted to feel good, I just wanted to experiment and have fun. If someone told me that it would only send me on a journey that would have me quickly fighting for my life, I wouldn't have believed it. I was just 16 and stupid about the long-term effects of cocaine and the many other poisons I'd soon find myself using.6

The next drug was crystal meth; I learned about it from smoking it but soon got associated with a crowd that was much more into mainlining it. So I did. And when you're injecting crystal meth, you know that heroin is just one step away from that. Dope and crank were daily drugs, and I'd often sleep with the popular dealers for discounts and better smack. By now I was 18, two years older but still stupid about usage and my limits. I just wanted to get high and stay there. I had long since shed Gina, Lindsey, and Nicole, who decided not to hang out with the resident junkie. Actually, by then I was rather antisocial at the school. I'd have friends who didn't go to the school come up and visit to drop off the drugs.7

I wound up getting kicked out of that school toward the beginning of my senior year because I got caught with speed. I didn't care; I was too doped up to give a fuck. My parents were pissed, threatened Silver Hill, amongst other awful places they wouldn’t ever actually send me.  Basically they were scared shitless so just watched me decay right in front of them. I had become skin-and-bones and my peach tinted skin was now more gray and colorless. It was the most beautiful that I’d ever been, honestly. I’m not going to say I was an ugly person when I was on drugs. I was absolutely gorgeous, at least to me. Besides, you know that all those models that everyone loves are all on drugs. It makes you confident, dope does. It makes you feel sexy, which ultimately makes you sexy. It’s all in how you carry yourself, and there is nothing better than the way you take carry yourself on drugs.8

So I now I was an 18-year-old kid who got expelled from a ritzy boarding school in Connecticut and now was working as a waitress at a sketchy diner. What better place to get hooked up with more drugs then a sketchy diner where the greasy, horny gangsters go? This was where I was introduced to the mental drugs. I started taking LSD and raving on ecstasy, when I was at work I’d be robotripping to get by. And all the while I was still injecting smack into to my veins every morning and night. It felt amazing and I was friends with everyone, but I was dying and heading more quickly than ever towards my inevitable fate: death.9