Young Writers Society

***I've always wanted to write one of those diary type novels, so I am trying it out, but with the added surprise that Cocaine writes back. Rip this to shreds and leave me enough to change :) Thanks!**** 

Title Dear Cocaine And Other Things

Dear Cocaine,

Nothings like the first time. I wasn't expecting it. On my way to my cousin David's house -a main proponent in this story- I drove slightly over the speed limit and allowed the blazing sun and cool breeze to kiss my skin, as I held my arm out the driver's side window. I was going to pick David up for an AA meeting at my church called Celebrate Recovery. I went every Friday at seven in the evening, not because I willingly admitted I was an addict, but because they had become the only family I had ever known, and for the last seven years, they had taken care of me emotionally. David wasn't a believer, but I still knocked on his door every Friday around six-thirty, faithfully. Shirtless, David answered the door with a huge cheesy grin plastered to his face; I could already tell he was three sheets to the wind- where did that saying even come from? Who decided that would be the way to describe someone who was intoxicated or high?

His house, which he shared with his grandparents, girlfriend Jordynn and her infant, reeked of smoke. I didn't smoke cigarettes at the time, but after a few nights of drinking with David, I would soon become a smoker for life. Now that's a story for another time. David walked me back to the bedroom he shared with Jordynn and her infant. I put an emphasis on her infant because it seems like David's the only one who takes care of it, and best believe he's no caretaker. Between the television, the crib, and the queen sized bed there was literally no floor space to walk on. I tucked my dress underneath me as I sat on the edge of the mattress. Jordynn passed a blunt to david who quickly passed it to me, and here is where I'll pause the story.

Everyone want's to be liked, right? Well, other's approval is something I've searched and longed for my whole life, especially David's- another story we'll get into later. I was never popular enough to fit into the crowd, but never dull enough to get picked on. So, becoming friends with the hoodrats in David's life has always been a priority of mine. I didn't want Jordynn to think I was just some basic white bitch from the suburbs; I had to prove I was hoodrat material but without actually being a hoodrat.

And, resume, I took the blunt from David, making some lame excuse about how I would get lipstick all over the end of it. When they didn't seem to mind, I swallowed hard. I knew when smoking a cigarette you inhaled and released, so I was hoping that's all you had to do to smoke weed. I lightly put it between my lips and inhaled slightly. The smoke tickled the back of my throat, causing me to cough out all the smoke I had just held in my mouth. Eyeing me closely, David offered up approval and just said to hold it in longer the next time. Next time?!

He was always offering tips on how to do drugs better, like he was the drug lord of Columbus or something. Like, this one time when we were twelve, walking around the mall; he handed me a white, cracked pill capsule and told me to snort it in the bathroom stall. I allowed fear to eat at every nerve in my body back then, so as I walked into the women's restroom, I promptly flushed it down the toilet. Anxiety ruled my every step, as I was sure a janitor or mallrat had witnessed this and would snitch, and I would go to jail. Walking out of the bathroom, I convinced David I had snorted the whole thing. It's funny the memories we hold in the depths of our brains and the memories we tend to let go over the years. Drugs weren't the only mal-intentioned thing David had introduced me to, but my brain let all of that go, maybe to protect me.

My second brush with drugs, ten years later, and I could tell Jordynn was a little less convinced, as she placed the blunt in the adjacent ashtray and pulled out a small square mirror. David reached into his wallet sitting on the black nightstand and pulled out a stripped down razor and a small plastic baggie. Jordynn repeatedly asked David if I was cool with it or not, and the naive me couldn't figure out what she was talking about until David poured a white substance on the mirror and started chopping it up with the razor.

Let's take time out number two, shall we. I can vividly remember thinking this was just like the movies, where the big time actors are sweating in a night club and snort cocaine off a strippers ass, but here I was calmly sitting on the edge of my cousin's bed with his girlfriends sleeping infant right next to me, no nightclub, no strippers in sight. I knew I just had to be dreaming. That wasn't real life.

I avoided eye contact, and with each clank of the razor against the mirror, my eyes shifted to a different part of the room. Jordynn and David each snorted a long, thick white line. David handed the mirror out to me. It took a few lame excuses like: I have to drive to church after this; I've never done this before, and just flat out saying no before David quit asking and snorted the line himself.

I offered to drive David to Celebrate Recovery, as I do every week, and he politely turned me down, as he does every week, but this time he did offer to go bar hopping with me once it was over. I smiled, standing up. I caught eyes with Jordynn's infant who was waking up, and I couldn't understand how Jordynn had settled for a life like this for herself and her baby, but in just a short year I would have just enough empathy to understand the prison drugs place you in.

The second time we met I wasn't as lucky; I couldn't escape the dark promises you bring, and I was forced to make friends with your powdery, silk-like substance.

Lucky 2B Alive,

Tara