I awaken in the darkness. I hear voices. Loud and whispers. I am drenched in sweat, disillusioned and have no idea where I am. The bed is hard and the air smells heavy and sweet, like sweat, rotten fruit and dirty clothes.
"she's coming in again. we can't let her stay long."
"she can only stay a few days."
"she's started injecting crack, which is dangerous, we have to give her a place for at least 24 hours."
I slowly open my eyes and see nothing but the inside of my blanket. Moving it out of my eyes aside I see shadows and remember.

a bath, the water, the vodka, the pain. the blade, it seemed like such a good idea, release the pain, the pain, and then suddenly the blood, oh god the blood, too much blood, i can see the vain underneath, it gushes, no no i don't want to die. that's not what i wanted. not this time. stop. oh god what did i do, please stop. and then the thread. the needle. sew it up. there was some show on tv about dogs, it was about 5 am, i don't know. the wound is closed. there is still vodka. i still drink.
next i know my mom is there. i show her what i did. i am stumbling and vomiting. she is horrified. i think it's great! who else can sew up their own arm so well? we are on the way to the hospital. i shake. i shake and i shake. i'm in a room. the doctor says my pancreas is inflamed. she says my sewing job is awesome. i'm so proud. my mom cries. she reads me the alchemist. i stick random things in my ears. eventually, i pass out. i wake up hungover and in pain. next thing i know, i'm here. women's only detox. i am here to stay. this is the beginning of the rest of my life. that's what i think.

but this is only the beginning of a long, hard, relapse filled existence that i call a life. oh how we can be so hopeful.