Introduction: The Last Good Day

I remember the last day before everything changed. It was summer, and I was 19—working a construction job, saving for community college, dating a girl who made me laugh. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was mine.

Then I tried copyright.

This isn’t just another addiction story. This is about how hope—the kind that keeps you going—can turn into a living hell, one hit at a time.

Chapter 1: The First Taste of Hell

The Offer

"Try this. It’ll make the work easier."

My coworker held out a glass pipe. I hesitated, but the promise of energy was tempting. Twelve-hour shifts were brutal, and I was always exhausted.

The Fallacy of Control

• First hit: "I’ll just use it to work."

• Second week: "Only on weekends."

• Third week: "I can stop whenever."

I didn’t realize I was already losing myself.

The Shift

Meth stopped being a tool and became a necessity. Without it:

• My body ached

• My mind fogged

• My mood crashed

I was no longer using meth to live—I was living to use meth.

Chapter 2: The Descent

The Lies Begin

• "I’m just tired" (to explain the weight loss)

• "My phone died" (to explain disappearing for days)

• "I’ll pay you back" (to explain stolen money)

The Physical Unraveling

• Meth mouth: My teeth yellowed, then chipped.

• Skin picking: I scratched at my arms until they bled, convinced bugs were crawling under my skin.

• Sleep deprivation: I hallucinated whispers in empty rooms.

The Emotional Toll

My girlfriend left. My parents stopped calling. My boss fired me.

I didn’t care—as long as I had meth.

Chapter 3: The Breaking Point

Rock Bottom

• Homeless: Slept in an abandoned car.

• Starving: Ate from dumpsters when the hunger got too bad.

• Desperate: Stole from a convenience store, got caught, spent the night in jail.

The Moment of Clarity

One morning, I saw my reflection in a shattered store window.

A ghost stared back.

For the first time in months, I felt something besides craving: fear.

Chapter 4: The Climb Back

Detox: Agony and Awakening

• First 72 hours: Vomiting, shaking, sweating through sheets.

• Day 5: Deep depression—cried for hours without knowing why.

• Day 10: The cravings lessened, but the guilt grew.

Rehab and Reality

• Group therapy forced me to face what I’d become.

• Counseling uncovered the pain I’d been trying to escape.

• Relapse happened—twice—but I kept fighting.

Rebuilding

• Trust: My family let me back in, slowly.

• Health: My body healed, but some damage was permanent.

• Purpose: I started speaking at recovery meetings.

Conclusion: Hell to Hope Again

Meth took everything from me—but not forever.

Today, I’m three years clean. I work at a rehab center. I call my mom every Sunday.

If you’re where I was, know this: Hell isn’t the end.

The way out starts with one step. Then another.