I had been fixated on the fluorescent beam glimmering off wet pavement under a 2am city sky. Often times I forgot that I was still only sixteen. How does age redeem relevant when you’re always pushing the years off? Fourteen was two years ago and I had already done so much and seen lives pass through. Two years before, I was twelve and jumping out my window and riding my bike to no good. Age was no match for me. There was something though, about being sixteen, and being in the city with kids who weren’t really kids. These were the kids who had ID’s that legally allowed them to consume alcohol, and the kids who graduated high school while I was busy jumping out windows. Could I really not wait another two years to go dorm-room hopping? Well I was past all of that the second my path crossed with Dimi’s; a girl from my PBR class. Dimi made me feel like i’ve lived sixteen lives instead of sixteen years. I was living the lives of my mother, my aunt, my sister, and I was living my friend Dimi’s, and every other person I got to deeply know. It was exhausting. They followed me everywhere; the car accidents, the heartbreaks, the instability. Their opinions and their influence even followed me jumping out windows, jumping over train security, jumping from dorm to dorm. It left only enough room for improvise. For impulse.

It begins with tragedy; as most stories do. If life had been a little bit nicer, it would have spaced the trials and tribulations out, or maybe even lessen the weight. Life had not been so merciful, though. A string of catastrophes hit all at once, and at fourteen, I couldn’t healthily manage. How many suicides, and cancer diagnoses, and divorces does it take to disable a person? I went to school the next day without any remote feelings of human nature. The only thing I had control of was myself. So I swallowed things that would help me transcend and leave my mind. I swallowed things that I would hope fill the hollow gaps in my heart. That was just the beginning- the revelation that I could purchase happiness. There was this black versus white, feel too much or nothing at all battle in constant affect. When I felt too much I needed a distraction stronger than just drawing pictures or jogging to the park. When I felt nothing at all, I destroyed everyone and everything without reconcile. If life had been nicer, i’d have spent more time clean, more time being fourteen.

I was sixteen and I had just hopped train security and was now walking downtown. Nothing felt out of place, except my age. I was with my best friend Dimitra, her boyfriend,  and his friends. I wondered if they felt my age out of place too. If so, they didn’t show any signs. Dimitra’s friends continued handing me drinks one after another. All of the strangers in the random basement we all crammed into, were the nicest, strangest people i’d ever meet. They would all ask, “What school are you going to?” or “What are you majoring again?” and i’d lie about being sixteen and in high school. Every few minutes Dimitra would signal me from across the room and i’d follow her into the bathroom. That’s when any childlike remains would cease to exist and the toxicity level would go from average high school student to 22 year old college dropout. I was alright though. The memory of the party is in irrelevant, scattered puzzle pieces.

It was the 2am train ride to the dorm room when Dimitra decided to tell me that she wanted to go to rehab. I knew the reasons Dimitra had fallen in love with drugs, and I knew that like me, it wasn’t for the more moral reasons. However, I didn’t know she had a problem. I didn’t know that I did either, or our other friend Alexa- before she was sent hundreds of miles away. I look back now and I see the twist in our whole wild, teenage rampage. There was stealing, manipulation and lying all involved. We weren’t just having fun. There were issues within us that we settled by using. There were insecurities, abusive parents, older boyfriends- we had these unfathomable demons inside of us that only seemed to disappear after doing these awful things. When we got to the dorm, Dimitra went straight to the bathroom. She calls me in and she’s hysterically crying in fear of deteriorating her nose. I started to notice that the drugs had caught up to us. Alexa was gone, Dimitra’s nose was falling off, and I had no idea what was to be left of me. I remembered when I was fourteen and took pills after my parents divorce and my aunt’s first suicide attempt. I remember the binge drinking after the crushing breakups. I remember smoking all the time as if the vapor would be dense enough to bury the weight of reality. Had all of the things i’ve taken, over all those years caught up with me to this moment? I couldn’t let myself keep going with the chance of “losing my nose” or being sent off into confinement.

That was the last night I snorted the stars. I loved space, and occasionally there are still times when i’m on edge and feel the need to fly out, but i’m finished desperately clinging onto drugs for help. Months past that night, Alexa was sent off twice more and Dimitra’s third suicide attempt left her in the hospital. I’d give anything and everything for their sanity. I never blamed the drugs for the chaos. I blamed the destruction that lead to the usage. It’s been months since i’ve succumbed to substance abuse and it’s been the hardest thing i’ve ever had to do. I am so used to resorting to self-obliteration when life decides to hit a little harder, but now all I can see is Dimitra getting her stomach pumped. I see Alexa on the run somewhere, stranded and alone and scared. I hope life is nicer to everyone. I hope it never pushes any fourteen year old off the cliff of rationality. I’ve been clean for months and i’ve restored my sixteenth year.