Crackhead.
You were my hero, kind of. You were the mom that I didn’t have, the best friend I didn’t have. You taught me how to love myself as a young woman, you taught me how to see beauty in myself. I could tell you anything and you never said shit to anyone. You’d buy me whatever I wanted if it made me confident.
Then you started smoking crack.
You know, I was never new to the drug scene. I lived in it and you weren’t the first family member to get caught up in the shit. But I never gave that much of a fuck about them. You supported me and you pushed me to do the right thing. You completely supported me and my fuck it if they don’t like me attitude. I never had someone do that for me. You made me want to go to school, you helped me become happy, which was something I never felt before until I lived with you. But you picked up a pipe.
You ratted me out, you stole Pops’ shit, you stole everything and you made it look like I did it. You got me kicked out of my grandfathers house, your fathers house, when I was fourteen. Come on, where the fuck was I supposed to go? What the hell was I supposed to do? Worse yet, you slipped crack in me and Mikey’s blunt. Who the fuck does that? So many times I was embarassed cause you were the biggest crackhead in the neighborhood and you were asking my boys to deal to you. I’ll never forget when your fuckin’ boyfriend came in the living room with me and my niggas and he had the nerve to ask if he could buy a rock.
What fucks me up though is when I randomly see you these days, barefooted and tweaked out walking down some random street, and I can’t even stop even though I know it might be one of the last times I see your ass. Lol, you completely threw away everything for a 20 dollar high that lasts for a few seconds. What you got now? Who you got? And what about me? Fuck was I supposed to do? And how am I supposed to feel when the next time I see you, you’ll probably be in a closed casket. You have no idea how much shit you’ve fucked up. And cause I look just like you, how Paw Paw calls me your name sometimes, and has trouble trusting me because of how many times you’ve broken his heart.
I have trouble with my boyfriend even because of you. You know his moms was on the same shit you are. Difference is she’s clean now. But when I hear about him trusting her, I disapprove and it causes rifts cause I lack the ability to believe in anyone, and I don’t want him to feel like I did and do. Not to mention it makes me feel like shit to not be worth the willpower it takes to get clean.