My brother is a drug addict.
He isn’t much of anything else.
He isn’t much of a man.
He isn’t much of a father.
He isn’t much of a husband.
He is an excellent liar.
He has been a drug addict for more than half of his almost 32 years.
None of it comes as a surprise anymore. None of it. And yet sometimes, I’m still caught off guard.
It is all so very ugly.
About a month ago he started having seizures or convulsions or who knows what. I can never believe anything he says.
A week ago he was admitted to the hospital because he had another convulsion and cut his head open on his kitchen floor.
He was released, we were relieved.
He went home and at 2 in the morning his wife woke up to a bed missing a husband.
She went looking for him and found him high on heroin.
He denied it.
She couldn’t find any drugs or paraphernalia, but she didn’t believe him.
She couldn’t find any incriminating evidence because he had shoved it up his ass.
Do you see how ugly this is?
Who does something like that?
A drug addict does.
My brother is a drug addict.
He’s gone now, supposedly getting help.
He’s gone to get help before.
He might be gone for a whole year.
He has a stay-at-home wife and a 5 year old son that no longer have an income.
This is the part where I lose it…
imagine every curse word in the universe and then add some that haven’t even been invented
This story sucks.
There are a few possible endings.
Most of them are not good, but I am still hoping for a happy ending.
Why?
Because the drug addict is my brother.
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