At age seventeen I moved away from home, to a college in another city. I met new friends, partied as often as I could and believed in living in the moment. Everything I did had to be fun and every new thing I enjoyed doing I did again. I smoked alot of pot, did other drugs and skipped classes that came at inconvienient times of the day. When my mother called I pretended not to hear the calls, when I needed money I called her back. I loved the life I led and took my college experience to the extreme.
But eventually the excitement faded. I began to question my lifestyle. I asked my self, “Are the friends I have friends because they like me as a person, or because they like the drug-hued experinces we share?”
Always of experimental mind, I decided to venture a test. I stopped abusing all substances my mother wouldn’t be proud to know I used. I stopped seeing all of my friends, with no explnations given, for months. I felt alone. I felt isolated and almost afraid to speak with and certainly to trust others. I was very insecure about the path and the people in my life.
With time those feelings passed too. The drugs have never come back, some of the friends haven’t either.
I’ve followed an idea that things worthwhile in life would still exist after I’d regained my motivation for life and pride in living my life. I belive I found my the core of my being when I was alone. I believe I am stronger than my weaknesses. I belive friends and family forgive easliy when they are given and explanation and a chance. I belive like friendships, college and soberness, a worthwile life life takes hard work and sacrifice. I belive following the my own path taught me more truely about myself than blindly following my mother’s teachings ever could.
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