Back to Black

Amy Winehouse was found dead in her flat in London in 2011.

She died due to alcohol poisoning, with 2 empty bottles of vodka next to her bed. Just 5 years prior she released an album titled “Back to Black”. This album was my lifeline in the first few weeks of high school when I came out as gay. I had fallen into a depression that could have been avoided with stronger self confidence, but I had yet to acquire that skill. This is the story of when I first tried heroin, the months that followed, and how my friends built up my confidence bringing out the pride I always had inside.

High school was a wonderful experience,

though I went through a major depression during those years. I went to Edina High School which featured an exceptional education system, great students, and teachers that left an amazing lifelong impression. Like any other school there were bullies, and like any other school in 2010 being gay was not yet fully accepted.

There were tons of people that would talk shit.

Mostly behind your back but sometimes to your face. There are some people where it's blatantly obvious from middle school that they’re definitely gay. The gay voice is there, the feminine body movements, the only hanging out with girls. I was not one of those cases.

I grew up mostly listening to rap. Jeezy, Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa, Rick Ross, or 2 Pac were blaring in my headphones most days. I rode longboards and smoked weed, I was a cool kid. But ever since I was 12 I just knew. By high school when I never had a girlfriend or showed even a slight interest in girls, my peers became more suspicious. Most of my close friends did not go to my school, though I did have a very close group of 3 that did.

I told my closest friends first, and word started to spread.

When there were parties and we’d get drunk, oftentimes people would ask. Especially when the blow came out, then they’d really get nosy, and I’d get talkative. I felt so confused sometimes, I was confident in my gayness but was confused because I felt genuinely like myself living the trap life.

I didn’t understand that you can have both, and because of that hid my sexuality for several months until too many people knew for me to hide anymore. When the truth came out in school, some of the hood friends I was trying to impress started talking shit.

That drove me to what took that pain away; drugs.

I started drinking more, to the tune of everyday. In eighth grade I’d drink a few times a week. Usually every weekend. By ninth grade I was drinking almost daily, bringing water bottles full of booze to school. Sometimes I would get so shitfaced that I would need to leave because it was way too obvious and I reeked of vodka.

The drinking wasn’t masking the pain in the way I had anticipated,

and the blow was only helping during the night when I was using. I needed something more. One of my friends' older brothers sold drugs and I would pick up from him whenever he got a product. I would buy X, acid, or shrooms from him a few times a month. I didn’t know he sold heroin until one day I asked what else he could get.

He told me that it was his DOC and he strongly suggested I do not try it. Another soul that was looking out for me. I insisted and eventually he gave in. We were living at Crossroads at Penn the first time he brought me some. It was late at night, I had been waiting for several hours. He was the type that would commit to 5-7 people and stay at each house getting high and talking with them for way too long. Whenever he got to you he got to you.

That night I felt broken,

all I had was fake confidence built through a drug dealer persona and I was not equipped to handle bullying. Especially so close to heart regarding my sexuality. He finally arrived, and a ritual that would be my savior for the next several months was born.

He handed me the bag and I looked at the tar like material. It was sticky and smelt weird. I was not nervous, I was obsessed with drugs. I was excited to try this, I had heard so much about it on the grapevine. My mindset set me up for failure. The only thing I had ever been nervous of was shooting meth for the first time, but even so I was much calmer than I should have been.

He instructed me to get a roll of tin foil and a lighter ready so when he arrived he could teach me before he had to leave. He was in a rush and said he only did his shit when he got home because he would nod out. I followed his instructions and loaded the sticky tar in the middle of a v shaped piece of tin foil. Then I lit the lighter underneath and once it started melting moved the V left to right chasing the dragon.

The first time I smoked heroin it was pure bliss.

I instantly felt a warm blanket engulf my body and completely forgot about my situation at school. I forgot about everything. I just sat there and felt like I was day dreaming. The ultimate comfort, an intense feeling of… well…. Love. A feeling of love. The dragon was Satan himself, and chased him I did.

It didn’t take long for my best friend to find out. Cody noticed when he found tin foil in my apartment and asked what it was for. When I told him he scolded me, clearly disappointed. I told him I would quit. I was able to hide it pretty well for a few months, but eventually my money source started to dry out. I was “borrowing” money from my mom, asking her for funds for movies or random lies meant to make her feel good about giving me money. She eventually stopped, I figure she got suspicious as the requests got larger and larger.

I was smoking a decent amount everyday now, with the dealer and Daniel. We would get high and nod out, sometimes mixing the heroin with meth and speedballing for a few days. I never was a genuine fan of downers, I had always been attracted to being awake as long as possible. I did heroin in hopes of drowning my sorrows.

Cody ended up saving my life during this time.

He started noticing I was getting sick, and would leave events early because I had to get well. I was using it multiple times a day and if I didn’t for a few hours the sickness would start. Being dope sick sucks. You can barely sleep because 4 hours into your slumber the sickness starts again and up you go getting high. It is one of the reasons I fell so hard for meth, I could smoke and smoke for days on end and when I came down it felt nothing like dope sickness.

It was miserable, restless, with the feeling of being stabbed in the stomach repeatedly without a doubt.

But it wasn’t dope sick. That shit is the worst thing known to man. Cody asked me genuinely why I was doing this and showed honest concern. My best friend was worried sick about me and I hated to see the sadness in his eyes. So one night we had a talk. I told him all about me, everything that happened at school, and exactly how I was feeling. He listened and understood. We talked all night that night. Drinking and doing blow. We landed on a solution to the heroin problem.

I would stick with drinking, the other drugs, and blow. I promised him on that night that I would never shoot anything. I will never forget that promise. I wore it like a badge of honor for several years to come…. Until I didn’t. It took a few weeks to get the sickness out of me, and

I am grateful for the love Cody showed me during that dark time.

I am convinced that God was watching over me because if I did not quit heroin then and continued doing it, I would have ended up shooting it. I know if I ended up shooting it, I would have pushed my limits like I did with meth. When pushing your limits with meth you overamp. When pushing your limits with heroin you die.