MadTizzyFever

It wasn't until I was standing in front of her in the South Wing of that Medical Rehab Centre did I realize she is my hero. Clutching each other's hands, we cried and stared straight at one another, mumbling "I love you" from our frowning mouths. She wiped away my tears; I wiped away hers. She told me I'd changed her life; I told her she'd changed mine. She told me to never give up, to never doubt myself, to always keep going; I told her the same. Our hug was one that I wish could have lasted forever. Or at least made a miracle happen- I wish she could have the motivation to walk again, to laugh again, to smile again. This woman has taught me

Substance Abuse is something that has haunted me my entire life, but to me, I took it to be a sign of what to do. One of my first involvements with an Substance Abuse problem was when I saw my mother, intoxicated to the point of sheer incoherence, wrestling her friend as he pulled her out the door and drove her to the Detox Center. I was about eleven years old, hiding under the kitchen table, as she yelled: "This is all your fault. I hate you!" repeatedly before she was hauled off. Next time we met up was the Cafeteria at the Detox Center when my family came to visit. My mother asked if we wanted chips. Simple enough, right? I did not know i

Fourth Floor, Meet your new patient.

We lay in our beds, with our arms propping up our heads. We are wrapped tight in our cocoons. My cocoon's first layer is wrapped thick with love from a boy I never loved back, and the rest are piled atop, like pages of a book. My sister's is thin yes, but each layer holds a specific memory of a time in her life. We do not shiver; instead we shake and quake in anger and realization of all the things we never knew. Perhaps if we had pieced this all together at a sooner date, we wouldn't be in this state, but we do not and thus we are so. We cry the same tears. Tears of resentment, tears of shame, and, on occasion, tears of laughter. From our m