EXCEPT HER –

May 14, 2024 – I was “dating” a bad boy at the time. Our relationship only lasted a summer, but we were together long enough for him to introduce me to methamphetamine, which he sold. I hardly drank and had never done any drugs, much less one that was considered so addictive and dangerous. But my boyfriend told me that I wouldn’t have any problems — and that it could help me lose weight. Those were the magic words I wanted to hear. Though I was nervous, I told myself that it would be OK and I could finally be free of those 10 pounds I’d been trying to shed. I wasn’t going to smoke or inject it — I’d just snort a line or two — so how bad could it be? I’ll never forget the first time I tried it. I crushed it up and cut it into lines with my library card on my yellow Formica kitchen table. I remember the burn up my nose. My heart racing. My blood pulsing through my veins. The rush of adrenaline. I felt alive, smarter, prettier and — within just a few weeks — thinner. I not only lost the 10 pounds, but I felt so good that I decided to go back to college.

CONTINUE@HuffPost