So it Wasn’t Cocaine it Was Salt.

When i was 14 years old i moved to Florida to live with my Aunt and Uncle. Things just weren’t very good at my house with my mother, because shes nuts, so my aunt took me in.

We are inherently very different people, with our basic beliefs on life and love and just some pretty basic other shit.

I tried to be perfect for them. I enrolled in a super competitive program, maintained super high grades, took college courses at the same time, and didn’t really have a social life.

I woke up at 5am every morning to work out, went to school at 7:30, then went to school until 4pm, came home and did homework all night.

I as just trying to be perfect for them. I am not a religious person. And if i were to stand next to a religion, it would not be one based a Monotheistic value. So pretty much not Christian, Jewish, or Islam. They themselves, were very dedicated Catholics. They didn’t understand me, or approve of me. They would try to make me go to Church for holidays, always with a fight from me. Because in my opinion, it just an injustice to those in the Church who are there for their beliefs, and im just there because i was forced.

Towards the end of my Sophomore year i started to just not care as much about making them happy, and more about making me happy. I started rebelling, secretly, a little more.

I gave myself a tattoo of a heart on my ankle. I started smoking cigarettes. I went to a party. I had started seeing this older gentleman from my college, no sex obviously, but some serious emotions involved.

What really got me kicked out of the house was when i went to get my bellybutton pierced.

So i got it done, and i loved it. They give you a little bag of salt to mix in with water to clean the hole. Apparently my aunt went through my bag, and found the empty plastic bag. I mean, i understand, it totally looks like a coke bag. But i was 15… seriously?

Anyways, the next day she makes me take a pee test. It come back positive for Methadone… Which is a synthetic heroin.

I was freaking out… It was later to be revealed as a false positive. But it didn’t stop her from sending me back home.

Like come on bitch. I called you mom for over a year, and trusted you. And she couldn’t even trust me. Whatever. Like if i say that bag was filled with salt, take my fucking word for it.

So the second i got back to California, i decided to start living for me, not anyone else.

I was smoking a shit ton of weed, drinking, having sex and actually did start to do coke. But i got my shit together, and now im pretty fucking awesome.

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