Once, something happened to make me realise that I was wasting my time; I never chased after what I wanted. In fact, I didn’t even believe that I could get anything near what I wanted in life and had got to a point of near-numb carelessness… And that’s not careless in a good way.
Stuff had gone on in the past which had left me with very low self esteem; in my day to day life I had become paranoid, scared that people would think I was an idiot and I’d got to the point where I couldn’t go outside for fear of having a panic attack.
I’d sleep through the day as it was safer. I wouldn’t have to see anyone in the light! I could ignore reality, emerge at night time where I could conceal myself in the shadows and ignore anyone I didn’t want to talk to. I didn’t have to worry.
That’s until I tried my first drug. I met a woman at a club. Long story short, she was gorgeous, I told her so, we ended up at a flat party and we took cocaine. Quite a lot of it. I couldn’t eat for two days which I wasn’t too worried about; I wanted to keep slim, right?
The worst thing about it (or, at the time, the best thing) was that it made me happy. I stopped worrying and I enjoyed life. I danced, sang and engaged with other people without a care in the world, and I was spending a lot of time with a woman I enjoyed being around who seemed (‘seemed’ being the operative word) to be interested in me in more than a ‘friends only’ way.
Long story short I ended up taking more drugs. I followed said woman around like a lost puppy and thought that something might happen… Which it did, but not without completely destroying my confidence and any sense of self worth that I had left.