Every child has a story to tell about their parents.
I was about 5 when my mother found me holding a sack a cocaine. My father had been abusing substances ever since he moved here to the US. Both my parents were normal marijuana users back in their teenage years. My mom was able to ‘get over’ the high. My mom was more of the “recreational-use” person. My father used it every time he was depressed down or just bored. When he came to the US with my mother, they experienced something that they thought they would never have to deal with. Post-honeymoon fighting. The fights were so bad that marijuana could not help my father with his emotional stress. Cocaine was the new substitute for the fix. If I ever found the man who gave my dad his first line, there’s no telling what I would do to him. My dad told himself that ‘maybe one try wouldn’t hurt’. But in fact, it is what scars him til this day. No one ever wakes up one day and says, ‘hey! I want to be a junkie’. Addiction is the living hell that these users endure. Drugs ruined my once-near-perfect family. I hope that this fairy tale of hallucinogens and narcotics comes to a better ending where the dragon gets slain.
Dad, I love you.
