I've never been addicted to anything, maybe cigarettes but that's it. Addiction runs heavily in my blood from both sides of my family. Alcohol and heavy drugs. I could've gotten into a lot of drugs, but I didn't, I saw what it did to people I cared about and I made a promise to myself that I would never be in that situation. That's why I call myself the bystander.

I remember the call, finding out that my best friend's twenty two year old brother was on life support from a heroin overdose. "Where are you? Why haven't you come?" What? Why? No. How? The last time I spoke to her brother he sounded so happy, so healthy, so alive. How was he now on life support? He's twenty two! I remember her telling me that the doctor's were telling her that he had no more brain activity. His sister and I had faith that he was going to pull through this, he had to, there's so many things he needed to do. He had so much more ahead of him, he's strong, he's got this.

His heart was still beating.

His sister then told me they were going to be pulling him off life support, I don't even remember what I was thinking, I just told her that I was on my way. I remember walking into the hospital into the family room where his mother, grandparents and his sister were. I walked in on the doctor giving them their options. I remember grabbing my best friend's hand as she sobbed then holding her close to me. I was rubbing her head, not saying a word as the doctor continued to talk. Every single person in that room looked like they hadn't slept in years, my heart was slowly breaking.

His heart was still beating.

She couldn't take much more of what the doctor was telling them, so she gets up and takes my hand. "I'm gonna go sit with him." I follow her towards the ICU, the two of us not saying a word to each other. My heart was racing, I had no idea what I was going to be walking into. She turns into a room, and there he was, twenty two years old, being kept a live by machines. A machine was pumping air into his lungs. Their mother followed us in a few moments later; his sister takes in a deep breath and lets out a heartbreaking, broken sob. Her mother starts to cry as I rub his sister's back, his mother rubs his face, his head and says, "You're not supposed to go before me. I'm supposed to go first." I couldn't keep it together anymore, I broke down with them. No parent should ever, ever have to bury their child. That's the worst thing that can happen in someone's life, second is losing a parent.

His heart was still beating.

This beautiful, wonderful and special boy was being kept alive by life support because of Heroin. An evil, evil thing in this world. It's almost like Lucifer himself; he's a fallen angel who makes the world believe he is something beautiful to follow him. That's what Heroin is: the devil. Some addicts may think at the time that Heroin is something beautiful. Come with me, I'll take away your pain, I'll numb your feelings and make everything okay, as long as you keep following me. As I stood with them in that hospital room I couldn't stop looking at his face. His still looked handsome, although the amount of fluids they were pumping into him made his normal athletic body swollen.

His heart was still beating.

I remember being in the room when the whole family was there, it was time. His sister didn't want to leave him but we all had the leave the room when they took him off. The heartbreaking thing about this was he was already gone, his soul had left his body, no brain activity. His soul was already in heaven. All that was left was his body, because Heroin took away his soul.

We all stood outside and you couldn't even hear a pin drop, it was eerily quiet. Until there was a sound, a sound that none of us will ever forget. The sound of compressed air being released, air being released that was no longer going into his lungs. His sister crumbled, I was frozen. I couldn't move, I couldn't move to comfort her, I was stuck.

His heart was still beating.

After someone is taken off of life support, their heart still beats for a few minutes before they pass. His sister lays her head on his chest, rubbing his face, telling him how much she loved him. The doctor listens to his heart. "He's gone."

His heart stopped beating.

I've never seen someone die, not even my own mother. And let me tell you it's one of the most traumatic things I've ever experienced. Let alone watching a twenty two year old kid who I've known since he was a teenager. I had to get an emergency therapist appointment after that because I couldn't sleep, all I kept picturing was him.

I stare at his body and his sister who wouldn't let him go. A young kid, who had so much potential, who wasn't just an addict. He was a bright light in this world, an old soul, a caring human being. I lean down, rubs his face and kiss his forehead. He was still warm.

The funeral was the worst part, it was closed casket. To a lot of us, it didn't seem real that he was gone because we couldn't physically see him.

That changed when we were proven wrong. His mother put his father's ashes into his casket, and we saw him. My entire body shook with sobs, he was really gone.

We're losing too many young kids to this epidemic. When people think of an addict that automatically say "junkie" which is a term that I hate because of how many people that have been in life who have struggled with addiction and have been too scared to ask for help. He was so scared to reach out because of the stigma on addicts that still exists in this world, and it shouldn't exist. This kid wasn't my blood and his death affected me in a way that I know will never leave me. It's because I watched Heroin take a life. I had front row seats to this unhappy ending. There is no explanation for this, there is no such thing as the phrase "God had a plan for him." What plan? A plan to make his entire family be destroyed and devastated for the rest of their lives? A plan to make sure this kid would never get married, never see his first born child and never grow old? None of these deaths have a positive ending because nothing and I mean nothing about this is positive. "He's at peace. He's loved. He's not suffering. He's in God's hands." That's bull. He should be in his family's hands, who love him more than God ever will. He was a twenty two year old kid. He was a baby. And because of Heroin, the devil that walks this entire country, the thing that stole his life.

All of us need to stand as one to put an end to this, to get rid of the stigma, to stop this epidemic. Instead of sending them to jail, get them help, instead of throwing them on the streets, give them a bed to sleep in to detox. Enough is enough.

If you, or anyone you know is struggling with addiction. Please reach out. We are here for you.

I am here for you.