To the voice in my head that convinced me to do drugs...

What the fuck were you thinking? Seriously, what was the brilliant thought process that led us to that decision, because I sure as hell can't remember? I'm not angry about the weed. I love weed. It makes me happy and its way better than pumping Xanax bars into me to numb my thoughts. I'm mad about the pills and powder. I'm mad because I expected to have better inner voices. I'm mad because I wish you didn't exist. I'm mad because I wish I would've never listened to you.

I was a good girl before then. Ok, maybe not good but I wasn't a borderline junkie. I know that to most people (especially in Miami) taking ecstasy is no big deal, but it is to me. I can't figure out why I did it for so long. Maybe I was searching for something. Maybe I wanted to be someone else. Maybe I was escaping who I was. I do know that I became hooked on that shit. My body craved it, and cleaning my system of it was hell. I hope you enjoyed watching me twitch for no apparent reason. I hope you enjoyed the night terrors. I hope you enjoyed the flashbacks in the middle of the day. I hope you enjoyed watching me sink to my lowest and hurt my family shamelessly in order to get my fix. I sure don't enjoy remembering it, any of it.

I'm not saying that everyone who rolls will become addicted to it, but I did. I still find myself craving that feeling from time to time. I guess I'll always crave it but trust me, I could do without it. The worst part is that I'll never be able to take it back. No matter how much I change or mature, I will always be the girl that rolled in the sand fucked up out of her mind the first time she tried ecstasy. I will always be the girl that did coke with her psychotic ex and didn't tell anyone how much he hurt her. I will always be that girl because I was that girl. It's the mark on my permanent record that I won't let myself forget.

For the record I saw myself completely different at the time. I didn't see myself as an addict or even a party girl. I thought I was fine. I was so not fine. I wish I would've listened to my real friends who tried to snap me out of it. I wish I would've never taken that yellow monkey. I wish I would've stayed home that night. I wish I wouldn't have gone to pick up my dad at the airport while still rolling. I wish I would've seen myself clearly and stopped before the shit hit the fan. Damn you voice in my head, damn you to hell.

Maybe it served me as a lesson; to learn to hold on to myself and not follow others who I know are wrong. Maybe in some weird way it made me stronger. I know everything happens for a reason, but I still can't figure out why you convinced to do it.

Sincerely,

Nat, who is no longer a pookie head

Update: Clean and sober of everything :)