Dear Heroin,
I hate you.
Last week, one of my old high school teachers told me that a classmate of mine had overdosed and passed away because of you. He was a young adult. My age. And he's gone. Just like that.
I remember him clearly. His black hair. His slightly chubby face. In class, he always jammed to rock music. Everyone could hear it from his headphones. He wasn't very well liked because he was a "trouble-maker," but sometimes, he made you smile. Laugh. He had this uncanny sense of humor.
And now, no one else will know that.
Two months ago, my cousin overdosed and passed away because of you. After battling you - trying to stay sober, trying to recover, trying to heal - for more than a year. She wasn't even thirty years old.
She was the family member at every event or reunion that noticed if something had changed. Every new haircut. Every new fashion trend or makeup style that was being tested out, no matter how subtle. Every inch grown. Everything. She noticed. She pointed it out, complimented it, sincerely.
You know what else? She had the loudest laugh in the room. You know, the kind that's carefree, silly, that knows everyone else is there but doesn't care.
And now, I'll never hear it again.
Spring of 2016, a close family friend drifted away after you sunk your teeth into her. She lost her management job. Her boyfriend of six years. Everything. And then, the day before New Years Eve, just on the cusp of 2017, maybe the year she could turn things around...
She overdosed - maybe on you, maybe on something else, but you were the catalyst that guided her there - and she passed away.
She had a silky mane of hair that stuck to her lower back from time to time, and I had been jealous of it since the moment I met her. She had the most endearing freckles and dimples that lit up her face whenever she smiled.
So many dinners, camping trips, and family events come to mind, but most of all, I recall each time she swept me into a hug whenever I opened up to her about something going on at home or school. Her warm arms. Her soothing words.
And now, when I need them the most, I only have my memories.
Come to think of it, "I hate you," isn't strong enough. Not from me, and not from the thousands upon thousands of friends and family mourning the loss of their loved ones each and every day.
Because of you.
If you could look yourself in the mirror, I think you'd agree. If you were human, animate, in reach more than you already are, you would be locked up somewhere for the deaths you cause in the United States alone.
On December 8th, 2016, the CDC announced that you had surpassed gun homicides for the first time. I hope you're proud of yourself. Proud of all the tears, the agony, and the heartbreak you've caused in your lifetime.
I know I'm not.
Never yours,
Rose Marie
