The thing about life being up in the air for eighteen years is that you end up pretty used to the chaos; so, when everything starts to settle down for the first time, you get restless, reckless, and you end up clutching onto the things that kill you, because that’s all you’ve ever known. When you’re the product of poverty, of addicts, of government assistance, the most important education you’ve received is the knowledge of how to survive and thrive in your environment, whether that environment be a trap house, section 8, foster care, or just the ghetto, you learn how to obtain the resources you need in those settings.
 

So then, what happens when the resources you once fought for become so easily obtainable? Food is on the table, the roof isn’t leaking, you’re not finding your mom drunk and passed out in the bathroom. Where do you go from there? As cynical as it sounds, we all know exactly what happens: you either accept that your life of hardship has come to an end and you enjoy the luxury of peace, or you start to recreate the situations you were once in that made life such a constant battle. For me, I became an addict. I adapted to the habits that I once so hatefully watched my parents engage in, just so I could feel the self-worth and victory of conquering the system again.
 

Except, then I was out of money, because I’d spent it all on dope, so we had to scrounge for food again. Since I was on dope, I didn’t feel like working either, so I was out of a job, and therefore unable to make money. Of course, I was hanging out with other junkies, and soon enough we couldn’t afford the roof over our heads anymore, so then we had to fight for a home. To make things as bad as they could get, I was out of money, so I couldn’t buy dope anymore either. In short, I became a broke, homeless, hungry, unemployed junkie. I’d completely recreated the life my parents once put me in, just because I wanted to say I’d lived through the struggle. In reality, this is the life most of us are yet to face.
 

I ended up escaping the cycle, but some of those habits die hard. It created a lot of bad financial habits that, two years later, I’m still struggling to break. Every time I encounter a drug, my adrenaline starts racing, and all I want is whatever is in front of me. I have a strained relationship with my parents because, even though they’re clean and fairly well-rounded adults now, I still feel a bit of resentment towards them for ever exposing me to that kind of lifestyle in the first place. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that my decisions were my full responsibility.
 

I’m not writing this to scare you into the belief that you have the potential to become an addict. Chances are, you already possess the potential. I’m merely writing this to inform you that no matter how easy, repetitive, or boring life may seem when everything suddenly falls together, the cycle of addiction and poverty will never be more rewarding than the self-peace of a life outside the struggle. Don’t feel like you have to earn it by becoming a junkie yourself; you already earned it from the many years of other addicts making your life a living hell.
 

Your happiness and clarity are worth more than the projects, the drugs, and the poverty, and you have to believe that before it’s too late.