Living in active addiction is fucking insane. This lifestyle is not for the weak or timid, if you don’t have strength it will eat you up and spit you out. Shit that might happen regardless. I started getting high at the age of 8. Eight years old and I’m smoking weed that I’d steal from my dad. Nobody else my age smoked weed, I was an outcast in school, branded the bad kid at an early age. For years I would hide somewhere and smoke weed, it wasn’t until years later that I found other kids to smoke with. By 12 I was well on my way to becoming the addict that I am today, adding to the list of drugs I would try with LSD and mushrooms. By the end of the year I would get busted for drinking by my dad and sent to drug rehab. It was in drug rehab that I developed my love for pharmaceuticals and pills of all kinds were added to the list. Before I ended year 12 I would add cocaine and meth to the list, experiencing my first taste of addiction in myself and in some of my friends after my first trip to drug rehab. 12 years old was also the beginning of my never ending toxic relationship with the judicial system and law enforcement in general. My home life was not great and I longed for an escape, embracing crime and drugs was a way for me to give up on a society that I’d felt had given up on me before they ever even started, it was a way for me to say, “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me.” And it was a way for me to numb the pain and loneliness, to avoid the bitter realities. And I quickly became known as the drug kid. If you want drugs then Jason can get them for you. Shit even my mom and dad bought drugs from me. I’m not sure how it got that way. I think that it was cause I was such a cool little kid that I managed to be able to attract older people to associate with me and so I became connected to the wrong people for my successful childhood but the right people for my launch into the drug world, into Street life. It was a smooth, easy transition, very painless and without fanfare, so smooth that nobody even knows when it happened. One day I was a little kid and the next day I was not. Drugs stunted my emotional growth and my maturity level, they stole away my childhood, forcing me to approach things from an adult point of view. By the time that I got my drivers license and moved out of my parents home I was already quite experienced in the drug world, living in my van with a married couple who shot heroin and so when the opportunity came for me to try mainlining heroin I barely missed a beat. Overnight I went from an abused, innocent, troublemaker of a child who was simply trying to survive and escape a life that I’d deemed virtually impossible, to an angry, bitter, angst filled junkie still trying to escape but no longer worried about surviving this life. I remember the first time that I used a needle and I remember thinking that I’d finally reached rock bottom, that I couldn’t get any further and I remember being relieved about it. By this time I no longer lived with my parents having exited stage left when my father told me that if I didn’t like his rules and wouldn’t do what he wanted me to do then I could get the fuck out. I waited for him to go to work the next day and as soon as he did I packed up my shit and bounced, not looking back. I was a fucked up kid. I was so angry. I wanted to smash everything. I wanted everyone to feel the helplessness that I felt, I wanted to set the world on fire. I wanted to bulldoze the rainforests and pave them so nothing could grow back. I wanted to drowned pillowcases full of kittens and club baby seals. I was a hateful, miserable, dangerous little drug addict who didn’t care about anything or anyone. I longed for death, I never feared it and so I lived recklessly, constantly pushing the envelope as far as I could get it, never thinking twice about my action’s because I feared nothing. From as early as I can remember up until my daughter Brooklyn was born I was a hot mess. I was not a good person, I didn’t care about the feelings or wellbeing of anyone, not even myself, hell especially myself. I was angry as fuck about everything and my life was very chaotic, very unstable, very unhealthy. Then Brooklyn was born. The birth of my daughter completely changed everything. The man that I was before her birth was nothing like the man I became after she was born. Night and day. I was in active addiction right until her birth but once she was born I lost all desire to get high. I wanted nothing to do with drugs because I no longer needed them. I’d been getting high all my life to avoid having to live, to avoid having to feel but once Brooklyn was born I didn’t want to avoid any of that. For the first time in my life I was excited for the days to come, I couldn’t wait to experience everything. Although I had no idea how to identify any of my feelings I wasn’t trying to dodge those either, I was full of positive emotions, I was tuned into an extremely high vibration and the four years that I was blessed with the responsibility of being Brooklyns father were by far the best time of my life. Nothing has ever compared. I was so happy, so content. I didn’t get high dropping all drugs and rarely drinking up until I started to have to share custody of her with her mother. From the day Brooklyn was born until the day I started sharing custody of her with her mother I had been with Brooklyn nonstop, I hadn’t missed a day of her life until then. Once she started going away with her mom I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, immediately being filled with anxiety and angst and before you knew it I started drinking again, trying to run from the emotions that Brooklyn’s absence created. I’d get so wasted that I started to get into trouble, getting picked up by the cops for my drunken behavior. Eventually, my poor choice’s caught up with me and I overdosed. Unfortunately the day i overdosed my daughter was there and so the man called DHS and they took my daughter. They sent me to prison and while I was in prison they terminated my parental rights and I haven’t seen my daughter since. Once I lost my daughter I came back to my drug addiction with a vengeance. Since the day I lost my daughter I have pretty much been in active addiction. Besides when I’ve been in prison, and I’ve been to prison three times since I lost Brooklyn, I’ve been high the whole time. After pretty much 30+ years of getting high I have become an exceptionally functional addict. I am high almost all the time without people having the slightest idea. Normally this works for me. I’ve got no reason not to get high, it’s not like I’m trying to live forever or impress anybody anymore and I am absolutely trying to avoid emotions and numb the shitty emotions that I can’t avoid. Plus I disagree with the general opinions that people have about drugs and drug addiction. I think that most information given out about drugs is propaganda used to manipulate people and guide their direction, very rarely is it the truth.