A few weeks ago my friend had an experience that she wishes she could take back, have a second chance at it so this time she could say no. This is her story.

"You always hear about people drug overdosing, new drugs, and different things along those lines on the news. Yet no one ever tells you what really happens. No one tells you the process or the aftermath. Which is why I had to learn the hard way. But before I begin, I have to admit that I am already deathly afraid of drugs. All drugs. My real father, Josh, was a drug addict my entire life. You rolled it, he smoked it. You melted it, he shot it up. Addiction runs in my blood. And it’s terrifying to know that. So I avoid any medications like they’re the plague. But, I’ll also admit that I am a teenager who has had her dumb and wild moments.

"I’ve smoked weed before. I’ve drunk multiple times. But I’ve never had anything really happen to me. Until October 26^th, 2015, when I almost lost my life. You see, I was born with constant headaches, I’ve had them my entire life, and as a college kid with a job, I’m ridiculously stressed out. Well, that particular day, I decided I would go smoke some weed with a “friend” to try and get rid of my headache. Because you know, all those people say it’s a good natural remedy or whatever. Around twelve-thirty in the afternoon, I had him pick me up from campus. Went to his house. Talked for a little while, joked around, had a grand ole’ time.

"Around one o’clock, we smoked. Only took maybe three hits (puffs) off of the joint, he went upstairs, and I sat down on the sofa. Not even a minute later I couldn’t see anything. The room was spinning, and objects were starting to blur together. I figured it would pass, so I stayed sitting on the sofa. Then I blacked out. I remember waking up for a split second and dragging myself to his kitchen sink, where I threw up everything but my lungs for what seemed like hours. I heard my “friend” ask me if I was okay, and I tried to reply, but I was too busy throwing up what little food I had left in my stomach.

"It seemed like hours passed by before I could finally speak, and I told him to call 911. By this point, I was so delusional that I couldn’t see anything and I could barely speak. I’m genuinely surprised that he actually heard what I had said. But, to my dismay, he told me no. He told me to just keep throwing up and get it out and that I would be fine. A few seconds later, I completely blacked out. I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t see anything. And I couldn’t feel anything. It was like being in a void. Until I heard someone say “we should just leave her”. My eyes barely opened and I saw two sets of feet, and I tried to tell them not to leave me, but it was like I was paralyzed. Then I fell back into my deep sleep.

"After that, everything is a blur and I don’t remember much, so I’ll just tell it like I was told and add in the few memories I do have. Apparently, after I didn’t wake up and I was just lying there, he called a med student to come check on me. That med student is the reason I am alive. He convinced the “friend” I was with to bring me to the hospital. I don’t remember much of the hospital, but I remember hearing the nurses screaming and saying “she overdosed” and “she’s not breathing”. I was close to death.

"You always see on movies how there’s a white light and all this b.s. when you have a near-death experience. But in all reality, there’s nothing. Everything is black. Everything is dead. There’s no noise. No lights. Absolutely nothing. It’s like a black hole where you’re stuck with your thoughts and nothing else. And the only thought I had was, “I’m dying”. And let me just throw this out there and say, it is the most heartbreaking thing to hear someone say that you overdosed. Especially when you’re real dad was a drug addict, and the last thing you want in life is to ever be compared to him. All I kept thinking when I heard that was “I’m not Josh. I didn’t overdose. I’m not him.”

"I heard someone say that my entire body was blue. That I must have taken something to cause it. That I took too many pills. I tried so hard to tell them I didn’t take anything. But nothing would come out. My mouth didn’t even open. I was basically a vegetable. Then I heard crying. And I heard “wake up, please wake up”. It was my best friend. I tried so hard to tell her that I was awake. That I was fine. But I couldn’t. I was screaming. But no one could hear me. I was crying. But no tears came out. I was fighting on the inside. But cold and lifeless on the outside. Then I felt a hand on my head. The first thing I had felt the entire time. And I knew it was my mom. Pain struck me. What had I done? Why did I put my own mother in this position? Why would I do this to her?

"I tried everything to move. To let her know that I could feel her. But I still couldn’t. I was trapped in my mind, with no control over anything. I’ve never felt so broken in my entire life. To know that my mother had to find me in the hospital, unresponsive, is the one thing in life that I truly regret. I almost broke my mother’s heart that day. And no pain can compare to knowing the damage I could have done to my own mom. I vaguely remember waking up at one point, crying, and saying “he wanted to leave me," then passing out again. According to my mom, after that, I had woken up again. Spoke to a police officer, then fell unconscious again. I didn’t wake up completely until five o’clock that night. I was unresponsive for over four hours.

"Two IV’s, an oxygen mask thingy, and heart monitors were on my body. I tried to laugh it off. But I couldn’t. I asked what happened. I asked if it was an overdose. How was it an overdose? You can’t overdose on marijuana. Then I found out the weed was either laced or it was Spice, a synthetic marijuana that has been killing people left and right. And all I could say was “I almost died because I wanted to get rid of a headache.”

"I didn’t leave the hospital until 3:30 the next afternoon. I received multiple lectures, of course. And I did leave the hospital with bruises covering my hands, veins, and chest. Almost a week later, and I’m still having problems breathing. Still shaking. Still twitching. Still having emotional outbursts and anxiety. Now, when I see my so called friend I have flashbacks and I feel like at any moment I’ll stop breathing. I am now mentally screwed up because of it. The bruises have faded. But my heart is still broken. My mind is still a mess. I’ve turned into a shattered mirror that’s missing pieces. There’s no way to completely put me back together. But I am still breathing. My blood is still pumping. My heart is still beating, and by the grace of God, I am still alive.

Be careful who you trust. Value your life and thank God for every time your heart beats.

Sincerely,

A girl who wishes she could take it back"