My past

Driving up Ogilvie, I go past the car dealership, I go past the pharmacy that used to be the corner store. I drive past businesses trying to sell you things. I slip into the parking lot. I step out of the vehicle. I consider the way things were vs. how they are now. For one, I am not the most nasty drug-addicted wench one could find in Ottawa, anymore. I do not like to lie about my past. I used to be a drug-addicted wench, in the most heinous of ways. I have had a wild childhood. I grew up way too fast. I didn’t plan it, just happened that way. 

It’s not necessarily my fault, because things in life happen that are out of your control. I admit I could have made better choices. But I didn’t. And yet here we are. I am alive and for now that seems to be all that matters. It could have been me, who overdosed and died, but it was my boyfriend instead. Something I cannot get over. Something I must justify by quitting drugs entirely, starting over completely. So that he could know that he saved my life, not the other way around. The world is an awful place. It’s full of bad people and horrifying things. When I was with him that summer, all I saw was good.