Cracked Out

My autobiographical story about my life with drugs. Unfinished

Cracked Out

It’s the biggest gift and the biggest curse in my life. I love what prescriptions do for me but I hate what they turn me into. I wasn’t supposed to be a speed freak but from the age of seven, I’ve been prescribed dozens of types of medications for my ADD. Then after many years of not taking anything, I tried Vyvanse at the age of seventeen and my life hasn’t been the same since. Senior year of high school I transformed from a lazy unmotivated slob who didn’t give a s**t about school or life, into the hardest working person in my class. Suddenly it all became clear and I didn’t want to become a loser, I wanted to be the most successful person I could be. I was greedy, I wanted to outshine everyone and out do everyone. My young amphetamine brain would say “I’m gonna show them!” I didn’t know these glorified thoughts were going to be the start of my addiction. It was all so innocent. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and have never taken that first pill. Perhaps my life without it would be simpler and happier but I probably would have never graduated high school, gone to college or done anything with my life. It’s all a double-edged sword.

I started my freshmen year of college with a false sense of confidence my new orange and blue pill gave me. My first semester I belived I was the greatest thing to walk though those halls. You couldn’t tell me otherwise. I excelled at every task I put my hands on. Though this new-found success didn’t feel like enough, deep down I was lonely. I was still just an awkward teenager seeking for approval. I tried to make new friends and failed. Every social encounter was an opportunity for embarrassment. Instead my needs for acceptance were shallowly fulfilled with an increased dosage.

A year and a half later my insecurities got the best of me. Maybe I wasn’t the most incredible person on the planet… wait… are they whispering about me? I hope they’re not laughing at me. I went from sitting in the front of the class to the back corner. My medication couldn’t go up higher, so I started taking double. I still didn’t feel anything. The sparkle in my life was gone. What was happening? Surely there must be something wrong with me. What’s wrong with me? The answers were no longer at the bottom of an orange bottle and my anxiety reached an all time high. I became paranoid, even delusional. I refused to stop taking the pills though, I had to keep chasing the dream even though my life was in shambles. After one too many panic attacks alone, crying in my car, I dropped out of college.

I told myself I was just taking a semester off, to take a break from the stress. My prescription went unfilled. Then I decided to get a job and make some money during my free time. I started taking Adderall and felt like myself again. I got a job at a store in the mall, I was making friends, but then I became obsessed with false hopes of greatness again. I craved to be better than everyone at my job, and at times I was. My employers took notice to my hard work. Finally my efforts were being paid attention to and my desire for attention was being gratified. Then my medication ran out. My abuse was unfortunately met by two weeks of forced sobriety. My life felt bleak, I no longer felt ‘special’. It was mind-boggling how other people went though life like this. Getting out of bed and dressed was a task. I realized this wasn’t normal.

I continued on through life with full knowledge of my addiction. When my medication ran out I bought more off the street or I stole it off of friends. I was blowing though 70 to 120 milligrams a day, enough to give an average person a heart attack. My delusions of grandeur kept me in a fog. I didn’t know why I was putting my body though this in the first place. Let alone for this crappy part time job. Months passed, I didn’t go back to school. Maybe the working world is better for me anyway…. So I spent a year slaving away at my job trying to get a promotion, but my efforts never seemed to be enough. After my dream position was given to someone who didn’t even want it, I quit.

Now my future is filled with unanswered questions. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life this way, but I feel as if I have no choice. My world is void of meaning without pills. It’s foggy, uninteresting and bland. At twenty years old, my life revolves around a substance that I cannot live without.