Two months, four days. It’s been two months, four days since you were found to have died from a heroin overdose. I knew you had problems with addiction, that you had been arrested before for drug possession and had just gone through your second stint in court mandated rehab. I didn’t even know you had gotten out of rehab.The last time we spoke you were dealing with being stuck in there. I did my best to be able to talk to you to help you through, but in reality I didn’t know what to say that would help or make it better. Even though we had never met in person, we had been talking for a couple years and had gotten close. We had talked in passing about one of us visiting the other, but it just never happened. Neither of us really had any money to be able to travel. You because of your addiction, me because for the longest time I had no job. We bonded over our shared past with depression and SI. Chatted about life with the ups and downs. I bitched about struggling with school and you were there to talk me through when I wanted so bad to quit. We talked each other through whenever we just wanted to curl up and die.

Doing what I do, I’ve seen my share of drug addicts and I’ll be the first to admit there’s been more than one occasion I have probably come across heartless when they’ve been tripping out or had overdosed. I’ve worked a few suicides, multiple DOAs. I’m no stranger to death. It’s easy to get jaded being on the front line seeing all that in the street. When you have to deal with those kinds of calls, you have no choice but to stay detached and almost dehumanize them. If you don’t, it’ll drag you down.  I was kidding myself thinking that if rehab didn’t work that you’d end up any way other than you had. Still, finding out by chance on Facebook that you had died while I was sitting in my dad’s hospital room felt like a punch to the stomach that knocked the breath out of me. It was all I do to keep functioning those first few days after I found out it wasn’t a bad joke.

I still find myself wanting to text you to just talk, especially when I’m having a bad day but then I remember. I always remember.

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