Floating

Ex drug addict and alcoholic, Derek tells his story. From the beginning of his addiction, both to cocaine and to Elisabeth. His second half. He tells his story, their story, to the very end.

1

It was maybe two years ago today, or two years ago yesterday. These days I cannot remember much, not when my mind is so occupied. Two years ago today or yesterday, I met the love of my life. The girl of my dreams. I didn't know it then, but I learned it. I know it now, and now is too late.

2

As I stepped nervously through the front door of the ramshackle house, I swore I knew what I would expect. I'd sit down on the broken-to-s**t sofa, probably next to a friend and a stranger. I'd crack open my first of twelve beers, and socialize awkwardly. I'd gain a slight buzz after three or four drinks, that on top of the few I'd drank before showing up at this house, then I'd get bored, and I'd f**k off back home for a good night's rest, either handing out the rest of my beers or taking them home with me for the morning. A typical night for a typical guy.

What really happened?
I stepped nervously through the front door of the ramshackle house, my case of beer in hand, a cigarette in my ear. Upon entering, I was overcome with noise of drunk a*s holes yelling s**t at each other. It was a typical f*****g night, and I was sick and tired of typical nights. I sat down on the broken-to-s**t sofa I was getting very used to finding myself on every weekend, and I cracked open my first Lucky Lager of the night. To my left was my drunk friend, yelling across the house to my other drunk friend who owned the s**t-hole. I swear the place was a f*****g wreck. I glanced to my right as I felt somebody sit next to me, and there was the most beautiful girl in the world, not next to me, but on the beer stained chair across the room.

3

I could have said something, and I really would have. I knew this girl, not personally too well, but I'd seen her around for the past few years. She knew a bit about me, I knew a bit about her. Both of us figured it would be that way forever.

Well, it wouldn't be that way forever. However, anybody who knows me personally is quite aware that I have very low self esteem and am very insecure, at least I was at that point in my life. Two years ago may not seem like long, but a lot can change in two short years.

So, I decided it would be in my best interest to keep to myself that night. I mean, I can't remember for sure, but I'm certain her and I had exchanged a few words here and there before I planned on leaving the s**t-hole house at five in the morning, but that night ended up being quite eventful. I enjoyed my beers, I talked with my (very few) friends, and that was that. Typical f****n' night, right?

Wrong, sort of.

It was about five in the morning now, I was just getting ready to leave, because why the f**k and how the f**k am I still drinking at five in the morning when I ran out of beer about four or five hours earlier? As I began phoning up a taxi to get me home safely, there she was on the front porch, finishing a beer and crying. I hung up my cell phone immediately and put it my pocket, my brain started to run off pure instinct, I lost all control of myself. Listening to her cry, staring at that beautiful hair of hers, I sat down next to her. “What's wrong?” I asked.

4

Well, as it turns out I had just sat down beside one of the sweetest human beings in the entire f*****g world, sure, she was a drunk wreck, but f**k it, there is something beautiful about a drunk wreck. Something oddly enticing about it, or perhaps it was just her.

She poured her heart out and I picked up ever bloody piece of it, swallowed each piece whole, spat them out on the rotting wooden steps before me, and stared into her eyes. Then nothing happened, that was it. Goodnight, goodbye, see you another time. She said a bit more, got uncomfortable and left. She'd later tell me she got scared. It makes sense, see, she was a very strange girl. But she fit me perfectly.

As I watched her walk away, off into the streets as the sun was coming up, I smiled and thought to myself “if only we could do this again”. She was beautiful, and her figure was perfect as she made her way out of sight. I would have walked her home, and perhaps I should have, but I was no gentleman, and I'm sure as hell not one today.

I went back into the house, said my farewells and instead of taking a cab home, decided to walk. I was beginning to sober up, and had many things on my mind since the conversation her and I had.

Why didn't I say more to her?

I ask myself this all the time, but I always answer the question the same. It just wasn't the right time, it wasn't the right place. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that is a great way for me to look at things. Mom smokes crack? Deal with it, that's the way it is meant to be, you'll understand one day, Derek. Dad hits you? Deal with it, because like your mother's drug addiction, it will one day make sense and many good things will come of it. And that is all true, because through life I have learned plenty from the hardships, and had I not gone through those things in my childhood, perhaps I wouldn't have had such a beautiful relationship with this girl. That was all down the road ahead of me, and it wouldn't have been possible without that conversation.
Everything happens for a reason.

5

The sun had just gone down, the night was falling upon me. I bid my brother in arms a good night, and hopped out of his car. I was back, standing outside the ramshackle house, where every weekend you could walk in and party. Of course, it wasn't just a 'walk in and do whatever the f**k you want' kind of place, but the gist of it was that if you ever wanted to have some drinks, listen to tunes and hang out, it was a good place to go. The home owner didn't give two s***s about what went on there, there was one golden rule and it was simple, “No f*****g on my bed!”, and he'd make it pretty damn clear every time two people tried to jump in there with their clothes off.

I remember that on this night in particular, a friend of mine and a girl he'd met up with decided they needed to smash, they had it in their heads that they could sneak in there unnoticed, and be out within ten minutes or so. I laugh my a*s off every time I tell this story. So, there they go, Eddie and his girl of the night head into Blaine's room, and I s**t you not, when Blaine walks in to grab a clean shirt to replace the one he'd just covered in beer and vomit and sees them f*****g, he loses his s**t.

“You m***********s!” he yelled in rage, and that girl hopped off of Eddie's dick so quick it could have snapped! I sat outside the room with a beer in my hand, next to that girl of my dreams, laughing my a*s off. She runs out of there a*s naked with her tits flying as she books it to the basement to get dressed. Meanwhile, f****n' Eddie is still in there and instead of running out with that broad he could have just screwed in the basement instead, he jerks himself off and blows his load right onto Blaine's bed! Now that might be the funniest thing in the f*****g world to me, but Blaine lost his mind. I'd never seen that side of the guy before, not until that moment.

Blaine turned around, grabbed his guitar from the living room, shook his head and threw the f*****g machine right at Eddie, it was f*****g insane. The guitar flies across his bedroom, and goes right through the f****n' wall. Eddie was absolutely terrified of what would happen next if he didn't move, so he tries running past Blaine as fast as possible, but being as drunk as he was, there was no f*****g chance it was happening that way.

Blaine grabbed him, and the rest was all a blur, even to me, and I wasn't the one getting my head beaten to s**t. I swear it though, I've seen a lot of fights in my time, and a lot of s**t happen to people. Not once in my entire f*****g life have I seen somebody get beat up like this, Eddie hasn't been the same since that night, I swear he's a different person in more than one way now. He left that place black and blue, f**k, if I weren't colour blind I'd probably have been able to see even more colours than that. “You don't let that m**********r back in this place tonight!” Blaine said to me, still red with anger and some sort of blood lust. “Yeah, you bet bud.” I said as I nodded my head in shock and agreement after Blaine tossed Eddie out of the house.

Had I not been preoccupied with my future girlfriend and soul-mate, I'm sure I would have gotten up and maybe found Eddie a safe ride home, he would tell us later on that he couldn't even see properly that night (which wasn't much of a surprise considering the a*s-kicking he'd just received). Instead, I finished my drink and grabbed another one out of the case beside me, gave it to the girl, and got another for myself.

6

That story happened on the second night of my meeting this girl, or actually getting to know her rather. The house we found ourselves partying in was a gong show, if it wasn't one thing like previously mentioned, it was another. As I stepped out of my friend's Volkswagen with a case of beer in hand (I drank quite frequently those days), I walked up to the house and made my way inside, there was an unofficial “Do Not Bother Knocking” policy at this place, or so I liked to think.

There she was, the moment I walked in. She was beautiful tonight, perhaps more beautiful than the first night her and I spoke. She was wearing a colourful dress, and it was another one of those moments where I began to hate myself for being colourblind, I would have loved to see the dress the way it was meant to be seen. She looked amazing in it, absolutely gorgeous.

I didn't want to be too awkward, I thought that perhaps she didn't remember talking with me the weekend previous, so I made my way to the kitchen to greet Blaine, he was in there on his laptop chatting with girls. This was a regular thing for him, trying to get ladies to the party. I sat down at the table and cracked open my first beer, another case of Lucky Lager. I handed one to him and stared at his conversations, I remember thinking about how incredible it was that he could keep up with talking to so many females at once. Unfortunately, none of them were attractive to anybody who hadn't been drinking.
I remember sitting there and just thinking, I don't know what exactly I was debating on so much, it was a simple thing I wanted to do, and that was sit with that girl. She was amazing, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. Not only that, but I couldn't stand to see her drinking alone in the living room. Why the f**k wasn't anybody else talking to this girl? She was absolutely stunning!
Now, I never had any intentions of just taking this girl home and f*****g her, I wasn't that kind of guy, never have been nor will be. I picked up my case of beer, chugged back the current one I was working on, and walked into the living room, leaving Blaine with the boring internet chats.

I sat down on the couch, not directly beside her. But across from her. My 12-case of beer was placed on the coffee table in front of us, and I noticed a bottle of something beside her. I'll admit to readers and to myself that I never really was attracted to people with drinking problems, but I was beginning to think that perhaps I would be able to make an exception.

I remember how she looked at me once I sat there for a bit, there were only the three of us at the house at the time, Blaine had paid no attention to her whatsoever. My favourite band was playing on the stereo, Black Label Society's 'Mafia' album could be heard in the background. I wondered if that had been her pick of music or not. It was a cheesy way to start a conversation with a girl at a party, but it worked.
“You like these guys?” I asked her, when she made eye contact with me she seemed like a different girl. Her look went from depressed and tired to awake and hopeful. Hopeful of what, I do not know. But that is the only way I can describe her look. “No.” she responded to me, “But I see that you do.” I was confused, and realized my Black Label Society toque was planted on my head, a big fat BLS in an Olde English font. “Yeah, I do.”

Today I wish I could have said those last two words to her in the near future. I did plan on it, but the chance was taken from me.

“Not my kind of music.” She said to me, then removed the cap from her bottle of alcohol, I could see it more clearly now, she was drinking a bottle of Baby Duck, “classy” wine as the non-classy folk called it as a joke.

I chugged back half of my beer, and let out a burp. I was a tad embarrassed at the moment, more so I felt like a fool. I really didn't know what kind of girl I was trying to impress here, and coming off as disgusting wasn't my original plan. Then again, it only took a moment before I reminded myself of where she was drinking, and what she was drinking. Then, to my amazement and humour, she let out an even louder burp than my own. “And I am impressed.” I told her as I set down my can of beer. She let out a nervous laugh, and that was a laugh I would soon fall very in love with.

7

“You seem to be feeling better tonight.” I managed to let out full sentences at this point, but without a doubt in my mind those sentences were slurred to s**t. She responded with a nod and smile, and I remember how god damn adorable she looked at that moment. I wanted her, and I wanted her forever. She stood up from the couch, and ran off through the kitchen and into the bathroom. “Please God,” I began, “I've been a real horrible dude, but please give me a chance with this beautiful creature.” I muttered this under my drunk breath, and stared at my beer.

By now the room was spinning, and I was beginning to experience that very familiar feeling in my head of being more intoxicated than I needed to be. “Blaine!” I hollered, there was no response. “And you're downstairs f*****g a w***e.” I slurred quietly. I finished my beer, and cracked open another one. That's the last time I remember touching a drink that night, and one of the last things I'd be able to recall in the morning.

I chugged back half of it, set it down on the table, and suddenly she was on top of me. Her lips pressed against mine, kissing me. I've kissed many girls in my short life, too many to count on six pairs of hands at least, but nobody kissed like her. I fell in love with those lips that night, the same way I had fallen in love with her laugh.

I don't remember anything after that kiss, but that kiss was all I needed to remember. All I wanted to remember. It was perfect, and so was she.

I woke up alone, her name written on my arm.

8

“Dude, did you f**k her last night?” Blaine would ask me, I'd answer with a simple “No”, but that wasn't enough to convince him. I knew I hadn't, and it was obvious I hadn't. I was a virgin then.
Blaine would go on to tell our friends that I had slept with her, but I knew the truth, so did she. The next night her and I would both have to deny that we slept together.

It was just a kiss, a long and perfect kiss. It may have been one of the most incredible things I've experience in my entire life.

The night ahead was a simple night, a Saturday filled beer and the girl. I found out the night before that her name was Elisabeth. The more I thought about it, the more she looked like an Elisabeth. It suited her perfectly.
We shared my case of beer while hanging out at Blaine's, I nearly felt like I'd moved in there. I was now a regular on the weekends, and I was sharing this weekend with her. Eddie was back tonight, black and blue, a little bit yellow as well. He was over it, and apologized properly to Blaine for having sex on his bed, and the regrettable choice he made after Blaine had walked in. All was well between the two of them, and good times were to be had.

Eddie sat down next to Elisabeth and I, he had some important news to share with me. Basically, it went like this. “My grandfather died, I got some cash. I bought some dope with it. You wanna go do some lines?” I considered it, looked at Elisabeth (who was already ready to go get high), and nodded. The three of us took off to the basement, where Eddie presented a bag of cocaine.
Before that night I hadn't done drugs in two years, it was my first experience with cocaine, and that taste of it blew my mind. I'd dabbled in drugs before many times, I've snorted ecstasy and MDMA, Ritalin and Oxycontin, but never cocaine. There was one thing I promised myself in my earlier teenage years and that was to never f**k up and get into that s**t. I swore to myself that I'd learned from the mistakes made by my mother. F**k it though.

I did a line, handed the plate to Elisabeth. There were three lines cut, two now. She did hers, then passed the plate to Eddie, he did his. There is one thing I learned in the past three years, and that is to not even bother with snorting cocaine when you're drunk. Why? It does f**k all. It might feel good rushing up the nose and hitting the brain, but the high is so minimal. My advice back then would have been do a line of blow first thing in the morning, let yourself wake up for an hour and take a rail. My advice today? Don't touch that s**t, it'll f**k you up.

The night was filled with that stuff, there was a party happening upstairs, I'm sure there must have been at least twenty-five people, maybe thirty. The basement was made off limits, this was a very important night that would determine a chunk of the future I was going to share with Elisabeth.

By three in the morning we'd be out of coke, that night between the three of us we'd done two grams or so, Eddie did the most. Naturally (not quite naturally), none of us three could fall asleep that night. Eddie had gone and went upstairs once he'd finished all of his cocaine. Elisabeth and I stayed in the basement, I was slowly beginning to grow comfortable around her. I didn't know her well as I'd had only a taste of her personality, and a little taste of her lips, but she was a sweet girl. Behind the alcoholism and drug abuse, I could see an intelligent young lady, I begged myself to get to know her better.

9

Saskatchewan is a depressing place, Regina more than anywhere. Some time had passed since I met Elisabeth, we'd been hanging out regularly for two weeks. I was right about her, she was a very intelligent young lady, it was unfortunate to hear that she would be moving to Saskatoon, about three hours away from Regina. Why? I asked myself so many times, I was beginning to fall in love with her and she was beginning to fall in love with me. Why must she leave? University.

Elisabeth was accepted at the University of Saskatchewan, and would be taking courses there to get into the psychiatric field. She wanted to help people, and this sucked for me. There were times when Elisabeth considered giving up the university and career dream in order to stay in Regina with me, but I wouldn't let her ruin her dreams for some teenage feelings.

Her and I were messed up back then, the more that I think about it, the more I regret it. Eddie hadn't only been getting money from his grandfather passing away, but the government was giving him insurance on an accident he had been in. Eddie scored big bucks, Elisabeth and I were being treated by him regularly. Cocaine. A lot of cocaine, and a lot more booze.

Elisabeth had high hopes for her future, she would be moving in less than a month to accomplish her many goals. I was stuck in Regina, partying.

Doing cocaine and drinking every day was great, but everything blew up in my face. Once Elisabeth moved I became a depressed wreck. Alcohol was my new girlfriend while her and I were apart. Heroin became an affair.

10

With the needle still in my arm, I woke up from a long rest. Eddie was doing the same, a crack rock on the table next to him. My first thought was I should take that f*****g thing, f**k Eddie, man. Then I realized what I was doing. Could I really rob my best friend who had almost spend twenty thousand dollars in the past month on partying with me? He'd become a brother, Blaine hated us these days, and Elisabeth was gone.

My heart was with her, and she knew it was. Our relationship would become one for the books, hence this memoir. At the time I was possibly the worst boyfriend in the world, there was never a time where I cheated on Elisabeth, I don't do that s**t, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I'd done that. I was a dick though, a drunk and drug addicted a*s hole. I was drinking every day and every night with Eddie, there was nothing else to do. Elisabeth and I would text back and forth, she was busy cleaning up her act in another city while I was f*****g myself over, big time. Her and I would have conversations over the phone regularly, mostly late at night when I was too high to fall asleep. Too much cocaine. When I was drunk I'd break her heart, accuse her of cheating on me, and so on. I swear that I must be the luckiest man alive for her dealing with my bullshit and staying with me. I swore to myself I'd quit soon, I had to clean my act up.

Elisabeth came back to Regina for my birthday, with a case of beer for me as a gift. I didn't want that, I was so happy to see her. I wanted to spend that night being sober, just her and I. I'd give up the world to go back and have my birthday be spent that way, but I don't deserve it.

“Happy f****n' birthday, man.” Eddie would say, his voice drawn out and drained.
This s**t is going to f*****g kill us. I thought that every day. What the f**k is happening to you, man? I'd direct the thought at Eddie, but I was saying it to myself more than anything.

With Elisabeth beside me, I held the lighter underneath the spoon. We were back at Blaine's, hanging out in the basement.

“What are you doing?” she'd asked me. “Cooking.” I'd respond. I wasn't snorting blow and this wasn't heroin. Blaine had just scored some coke and decided it would be a good time to smoke rocks. I'd never done it many times, but I did learn to cook in my younger years, I figured f**k it... It's my birthday.

I can't express the horrible feeling I get when I think of the look on her face at that moment, the first hoot she took. She'd looked so healthy being sober, she was two weeks clean of booze and drugs, now I was f*****g her up. I didn't want to do this, but I made her the offer. It was my fault, really.

We sat down on the cement floor, smoking until it was gone.

Happy birthday.

11

She was gone the next day, the 11^th of May. She left with a lack of sleep, a hangover, and a bag over her shoulders. A big fat bag of regret.

She's going to leave me, I thought that constantly that day. I remember very clearly.

She's going to f*****g leave you, you idiot.

I'd keep telling it to myself, aloud and in my head as well. I needed to understand it, I knew she was going to leave me.

Our text conversations were no longer the same, in fact every response was so minimal. I hated what was happening to us, we had spent an entire month by each others side, we'd began falling in love. I couldn't let it go, not for drugs, not for f*****g beer.

No, I had to let these things go.

I had to.

12

Bringing it up felt like a punch in the face, a couple more than that actually.
These punches reminded me slightly of the few I'd received the night of Elisabeth's going away party. She got kicked out of her own f****n' party.

It was the night before she was moving, or so we thought at the time. Fortunately for everybody who had jobs or school, it was a Friday, that meant it would be a decent party at Blaine's. There was never much going on there during the week, but this would be a night that everybody would remember.

“Take a line.” Eddie said as he handed Elisabeth and I the plate with two lines on it, I looked at her, it was her night, she could take the bigger line. We'd called them 'rockstar lines' back then. She took her line, grew a smile on her face and handed the plate to me. I took mine.

“Take a line.” Eddie said, handing the plate over again.
“Take a line.”
“Take a line.”
“Take a line.”

It kept happening and it wasn't going to stop soon. I don't know how much coke Eddie had bought for that night, but anything Elisabeth had bought wasn't going anywhere. Her and I had split the money on buying a gram, it'd be for the two of us later on I assumed.

It was about 11:30PM, Blaine had come downstairs to get out of the big crowd of people on the main floor. “M***********s man, they just smash my s**t and disrespect my f*****g house!” He plopped down onto the couch beside Eddie, lit a cigarette and set the pack between the two of them.

“I'm not throwing many more f*****g parties if people are just going to f*****g come here and do this s**t. They kicked my f*****g door in!”

Blaine was having a bad night.

“Take a line.”
Blaine took a line of cocaine. It wasn't something he did very often, in fact, I'd never seen him do cocaine, I hadn't even seen him smoke weed in months, and he used to smoke weed regularly not even a year before.

Elisabeth and I immediately realized that there was a reason Blaine didn't dabble too much into cocaine, he suddenly became the biggest dickhead in the world. “Where the f**k are my cigarettes?!” he yelled. I'd seen Eddie pocket the pack. “Everybody's f*****g with me! F**k!” he got up, and started punching holes in the basement wall. I nudged Eddie, “Come on, man...” I whispered.
“Take a line.”

Elisabeth and I each took a line, Eddie put the cigarettes on the other side of the cushion Blaine was seated on, pointed it out. Blaine chilled, smoked a cigarette, and became furious again. Something in his head just snapped. “My f*****g door!” he remembered what had happened upstairs, and ran up that staircase faster than light.

I knew this was only going to mean bad, instinctively I followed him. Blaine was going to start a fight.

13

When I got upstairs it was exactly as I had expected, Blaine had already knocked one guy out, the victim of Blaine's merciless fury was of course extremely drunk, like most people in this house. He wasn't a hard target, and went out easily by how it all looked. Blaine was already trying to bash in the heads of two other guys, I couldn't let it continue. Had I known beforehand what I was about to get myself into, I would have reconsidered, and probably stayed downstairs. I turned and watched the crowd before acting. I could see Elisabeth standing from the kitchen, I shouldn't have scared her the way I did, but Blaine was fucked on coke, he could kill somebody.

I acted instinctively, like most people hyped on powder do. There was nothing that could slow me down, Blaine and I had been brothers a long time, we'd gone our separate ways here and there, but I couldn't let him try fighting two people, and if the person he already knocked out got back up... Hell no, wasn't allowing it.

“Hey!” I said, my voice was quite casual for the situation I'd put myself in.

There was one guy trying to choke Blaine from the back, while one guy was now giving him shots from the front. Nobody in the house was doing anything, nobody but me.

The guy choking Blaine turned his head, but didn't loosen his grip whatsoever, my blood was pumping, and soon enough everything was a blur. I grabbed him by his hair, and from my peripheral vision saw people pulling out their cellphones, (of course these useless f***s would be filming rather than doing anything to help out Blaine.)

I remember a little bit, but not a lot. Before I knew it the unthinkable happened, before that occurred though all I remember is giving the guy choking Blaine a few shots, enough to make him let go. Not long after, the other guy pulled out a knife. Blaine had really stepped on the wrong toes, but it was his house, people had to learn that. Unfortunately, Blaine was the one who ended up learning something that night, as well as ended up in the hospital. As soon as the knife was out, I noticed people were phoning emergency. Making themselves useful, finally.

It didn't take long, I may have been hyped up on blow but I was nowhere near being fast enough to stop that dude from stabbing Blaine, I do know one thing though, after Blaine got out of the hospital a few days later, nobody heard from that guy again.

Blaine was never the same dude after, and he eventually gave up on partying so hard. It's been a year or so now since I last seen him, but I know he's still out there somewhere. I guess drugs gave him an ego, a pair of balls he'd never had before. He learned the hard way, but he started to grow up. I spent a few days with him after he was out of the hospital, but that was all. He became extremely depressed, and I couldn't handle it. I had Elisabeth to worry about.

14

I'd hear the same bullshit every night, every morning, and every afternoon.
“This s**t needs to stop, Derek.” And she would say it constantly. I was ready to tell her to hit the road, and I don't know why I didn't, because I remember how badly I wanted to at the time. I am glad I stuck around, and I am glad she helped me clean up.

Elisabeth came into my life for a reason, to make it better, and to teach me. Live and learn, they say. She made it possible. I learned a lot from her, and the first real lesson was that I can love myself while I am sober.

I may have told her back in April or May of 2010 that I sobered up, but it was crap. Elisabeth was in a different city, and I had all the freedom in the world because of that. Eddie and I were doing more cocaine than ever, and when Eddie wasn't shooting dope, he was cooking rocks. It was a f*****g gong show. I don't regret it, but I hate what I did to Elisabeth.

As I said before, I never cheated on that girl, I'd had so many opportunities, but I felt something real special between her and I, we shared a very unique bond, something I'd never experienced before in my life. I loved her, and I felt as though she was my soul mate, she felt the same way, she'd tell me a few months back, in 2012.

Her and I made one another promises all the time, I broke most of them. I made up for it later on in life though. I took me a few months to get sober, but I kept my word. I did tell her I would be sober eventually, and before I moved in with her in Saskatoon. I always keep my word, and I was sober then.

Beforehand however, I was living a lie, constantly keeping secrets from the girl I grew to love so much.

Eddie and I lost control of ourselves, and before we knew it, all of his money was gone. Every dollar, and like Blaine, Eddie became a little fucked up after. There were times where I swore I was hanging out with a completely different person. He'd always talk about the strangest s**t, suicide was a big topic of his after he'd spent all of his cash on booze and dope.

I felt that it was impossible to feel sorry for him, but he was a brother. I felt awful that he wanted to kill himself, and I did everything in my power to help him, I really tried my best. We'd go to movies, I'd take him for lunch and dinner, I always went out of my way to cheer him up when he was feeling down (which was all the damn time). There's one thing I learned, more than once in my life, when somebody is suffering from the horrible disease we call depression, there is only so much somebody can do for that person. I learned it personally, I learned it from Eddie, a little bit from Blaine, and more than I'd like to have learned from Elisabeth. But we'll talk about that later.

Elisabeth and I would talk on the phone every night, it started a few months into our relationship, and it was a regular thing after a while. The idea of sobriety became more and more appealing, I didn't necessarily want to do it for myself, I wanted to make Elisabeth proud of me. I finally had something in my life to be proud of, but I wanted her to feel that way as well, because it is really an incredible feeling.

I made her a promise, and that was to keep my promise I broke earlier on, I'd make up for it, because I had to. For her.

I told Eddie the day after the phone call that changed everything, I knew she was going to leave me, and I knew she could tell I was fucked up on rocks during the conversation. I had to make the change to keep the love of my life, or the girl who would become the love of my life, I didn't really know it then however.

The conversation went something like this.

“Eddie man, we've really turned to s**t, brother... We can't keep going on like this.”
“What the f**k are you saying man? What the f**k?”
“Eddie, this s**t is stupid. Look at us.”
“We're fine, man.”

“Brother, you can lie to yourself but you can't lie to me, we're f*****g up our lives.”
“Well f**k you, man. You brought me into this s**t.”
(That was a lie.)

“Eddie, brother... You gotta clear your head, man.”
“F**k you.”

That was it, the last I heard of Eddie. He made it pretty clear that he couldn't change, or didn't want to change. I was keeping my word this time around, Eddie and I let our friendship end there. Farewell, a*s hole.

15

Elisabeth agreed that it was time to move in together. I was a month sober by now, and everything in life was looking up. I no longer spoke with Blaine, Eddie was a part of my past, Elisabeth and I were the future.
I moved back in with my father for a bit, made our relationship a little better than it was when I was fucked up on the junk, and then I told him about Elisabeth. The two of them actually met when she decided to come visit me, he thought she was great, and he approved.

My move to Saskatoon was a pretty big secret, since I hadn't partied in a month (seriously, anybody looking to quit drugs and stay f****n' sober, don't go to parties, don't be around the s**t, it's poison).

I'm sure the only person who knew about my move, besides my father, was my grandma. She didn't tell anybody, and she didn't care to say goodbye to me.

Five or so months into our relationship, Elisabeth and I moved in together. Let me tell you guys, it was perfect. Like any couple, we had our problems here and there, but it was really the most special thing in the f*****g world to me. I mean that, and I will say it until the day I die.

Her and I were f*****g beautiful together, everybody said so.

She was in university, kicking a*s and passing with flying colours, and soon I was going to be in university as well. Within three short months of living together her and I had come along way.
We had a very friendly little apartment, it didn't scream fortune and comfort, but it screamed home. I was comfortable there, she wasn't so much. But, we had to start somewhere. Both of us had big plans for the future, I wanted to spend my life with her.

We'd always go for walks around the lake, and I really got to know her very well, better than anybody ever knew her. We'd walk down to the bridges, all of them, it would take a few hours to go to the bridges, lap the river and get back home, but I loved it. Every minute of her felt like the best dream of my life. I mean that.

I find it extremely difficult to write everything her and I shared, but after dating for two years, we still spent every day together, no bullshit. We always recovered quickly from our fights, we always cooked together, we always walked together, if I wasn't working and she was at a night class at the university, I would always go and meet her.

I remember on one walk in particular, I got a strange phone call. I was right by the university, a block away. I knew she was on her way to meeting me on the street I was walking on. I really wanted to ignore the call, and normally I would have. But it didn't feel right this time, I answered.

16

“Derek, man? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Blaine? Eddie? Who is this?”
“I got some fucked up news man, this is Blaine, it's about Eddie...”

I knew what he was about to say, I'd seen it coming, I'd felt it months ago. I was actually in shock at how long it took Eddie to finally do it. Like I said, I did everything in my power to help him before, some people can't be helped, Eddie was one of those people.

“He's gone, man. F*****g guy offed himself.”
“How?”

Blaine must have noticed my lack of surprise.

“What the f**k kind of question is that, Derek? What the f**k, man?”
“Don't tell me you didn't see it coming, I'm hurt, but Eddie was fucked up... When's the funeral?”
“You missed it, man. Nobody could get ahold of you, nobody knew how to, man.”
My stomach felt as though it had just shrunk immediately, to a piece of nothing, and then expanded and exploded one second later. I felt like s**t that Eddie was dead, I won't lie. I share a lot of great f****n' memories with that guy, but I wasn't surprised. What made me feel that way was missing the funeral.

“Well, why the f**k are you phoning me, man? To make me feel like s**t? F**k you.”
I hung up on Blaine, and he never tried to call me back. I regret that, he was a good guy, Blaine always was. He meant well.

I could see Elisabeth's silhouette coming closer toward me, I had to shape up. I won't deny that I cried, and now I had to break the news to her. She wasn't a huge fan of Eddie, but she deserved to know. Besides, at this point in our relationship, I told her f*****g everything.

When her and I approached each other, I said it straight.
“Honey, Eddie died.” My voice didn't sound like my own, at least to me it didn't.

I hugged her immediately, and she didn't say a word.

“We missed the f*****g funeral, nobody could get ahold of me.” I cried, and I couldn't stop.

Her and I must have stood in that same spot for thirty minutes, she was just hugging me, and I was just f*****g bawling my eyes out. It was awful, but I had never felt better after. Eddie had moved on, she put that in my head. She'd always look at it from a more positive perspective than I was capable of.

“Eddie was struggling, Derek. He was in pain, and you know this. It is a good thing, he didn't deserve to go through what he was going through. He's happier now, think of it that way.”
She was right, and I needed to man up.

“I just wish I could say sorry to him.”
“Well Derek, you can't. He's dead.”
That broke my heart.

17

The next few days were rough, it was hard to accept that Eddie had passed. Him and I may have grown to dislike one another, but he always was a good guy inside. The dope just fucked him up too bad, and the more I thought about everything, the more awful I felt. A piece of me died with him, he held a special place in my heart. He was a good dude, and I regret how our last conversation went. But, as Elisabeth taught me, he had moved on to a better place.

Unfortunately, my place was getting worse.

Being sober was killing me, I didn't even drink. I quit smoking cigarettes, and I wasn't putting coke up my nose, or smoking the rocks I was beginning to miss more than ever. Times were stressful, and Elisabeth and I were struggling to get along. Our relationship still felt perfect to me, but I could tell she was depressed as well. I'd seen it enough in my time to be able to tell, I'd just get a feeling every time I saw her.

For a while I thought she was getting tired of me, putting up with my insecurities, maybe she found somebody else at work or school. That wasn't the case, Elisabeth still loved me with all of her heart, and I knew that. Deep down, I knew.

And she knew too, that I still loved her with all of mine.

It was a rocky month, but we eventually got through it, after many sleepless nights.

We'd fight too much, and it was killing both of us inside. I felt like s**t inside, Eddie passing away would eat away at me. I would take it out on her, and she would take her stress out on me, the same way.

We'd spend many nights sleeping in different rooms, she knew I still cared though, I always took the couch. She deserved the bed. A comfortable sleep. Me? I never deserved s**t.

Every time her and I fought (over little things that were so insignificant), I'd beat the s**t out of myself. Literally.

I remember getting in an accident a year or so before I met her, I was riding my bike down a busy street in Regina, my mission was the liquor store, I needed some drinks alone that day, so I was on my way to getting my poison of choice.

I wasn't really paying attention I guess, my mind was all over the place. Something happened that day, I can't remember what. But I was in a “don't f*****g bother me” type of mood. My mind was in another world, like I said, and I didn't see the traffic light change. I just kept on going, and before I knew what hit me (pun not intended), I was on the f*****g ground. I could see my bike laying next to me, and couldn't even feel half the f*****g impact from the van that just smoked me.

(I bet they were surprised when their windshield was splattered with the blood of an invisible person) My head didn't feel bad at all, I don't even remember hitting it. The driver screeched to a stop, hopped out and ran over to me, faster than I'd ever seen somebody run. He was panicking more than I was, and I was the one who would end up with the worst concussion of life.

“Are you okay, man?! You hit your head f*****g hard!”
I wasn't bleeding at all, and like I said, there was no recollection in my brain of me hitting my head. I couldn't feel it whatsoever, I didn't feel any headache, not until about ten minutes later. I couldn't f*****g stand, I couldn't get my f*****g beer, and that pissed me off even more. I had to call my old buddy, the guy who used to drop me off at Blaine's s**t-hole of a house all the time. He hurried over after I called him, and just drove me straight home. Didn't hang out, nothin'. I didn't really feel like it too much anyway. It was a s****y f*****g day, and I was sober as hell.

Ever since that accident though, I'd gotten these fucked up headaches all the time, I was prone to being injured in the brain pretty easily since then I guess, and it's another reason I tried avoiding fights, besides that night at Blaine's. Coke got the best of me, I wasn't thinking. I didn't get hit much though, anyway.

So, when I'd fight with Elisabeth, I wouldn't think. I felt like I was losing the girl of my dreams, and I had to take it out on myself. Once upon a time I would have just burnt myself with a cigarette or two to punish myself for this s**t, but I quit smoking. Instead now, I'd spend my night on the couch, listening to her cry in the bedroom, and I'd punch myself. I couldn't stop once I started, and every morning I'd wake up with bruises, and a headache from Hell. It would stay for a day or two, on and off.

Elisabeth hated when I did that, but for some reason that fact alone couldn't stop me.

It broke her heart though, every day she woke up and saw me more bruised, she'd just hug me. I think maybe that was a big reason why I continued to do it, when she was sad, and I was sad, and we both felt like we fucked up, we'd just sit there, stand there, whatever it was at the time, and we'd hug one another in total silence. Not a word was necessary, we'd play the conversation in our heads, all we needed was that silence.

It was another thing about the relationship, about her, that I loved so much.

18

Our wounds were healing slowly, her and I were once again becoming ourselves. It was perfect, we'd do those walks around the bridges and river, and everything was great. I thought. I thought I made her happy around that time, I always saw her with a smile on her face. I was treating her real good, I thought.

I remember the first day she talked about it, a year and a half or so into our relationship. I was making plans to propose to her around this time, I almost had all of the money saved up for the rings. I'd get them a month later. She'd talked about getting engaged a few times, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

I swore to myself and to her that I wanted to spend my life with her, she agreed. Her and I even swore a bit of an oath, that no matter what happened to us, no matter how bad our relationship was getting, we'd always stay together. She didn't want another man, I didn't want another woman.

I knew we were ready, or that I was. I didn't even notice other females by that point, they didn't cross my mind. Sure, I'd see them, but I wouldn't 'look' at them, and there is a difference. If I ever thought about sex, I was thinking about Elisabeth. If I ever thought about anything to do with a woman, it was her on my mind. I would buy the rings two weeks later.

We were walking down what was called 'train bridge', because trains went on it, obviously. It was our favourite bridge, I never knew why she loved it so much, but to me it was just very unique in comparison to the others. She told me though, that day, why she loved that bridge.

“I've had dreams for the past two years or so, since before I moved here, that I would jump off this bridge if I ever decided to kill myself. It's on my mind a lot lately.”

I stopped in my path, naturally. What the f**k was she talking about? Suicide? Seriously?

I knew from the beginning that Elisabeth was a 'damaged' girl, and I was a damaged guy, we went well together. The two of us being together just felt so right, it was natural. We bonded immediately, or so it felt. We went from not knowing one another well at all, to spending every day together until she moved, and now we still spent every day together, even when we were not getting along as well as usual.

“Elisabeth, what the f**k?” I remember how she stared at the floor of the bridge, the loose wooden boards moving under her feet as she tried to keep walking. “No, don't.” I told her, “Talk to me, what the f**k?”
She was ashamed, she knew she was worrying me. And she was right, I was worried f*****g sick, and it was only the beginning of my worrying. There was a long road ahead of me and my worrisome personality.
“Forget it, Derek. I didn't mean it, I'd never do that sort of thing, not as long as I have you.”
I didn't say anything, I held her hand and we continued to walk. Regardless, my heart was racing, and I felt sick to my stomach.

“I love you, Elisabeth.” I told her.

“I love you too.”

The grip of our hands tightened, we continued our walk.

19

I began having these nightmares, they were awful. They never left me. After the day she told me about her dreams of committing suicide, I couldn't stop having similar dreams. They haunted me, and every morning I woke up I would be covered in warm beads of sweat, my heart racing. My first reaction to awakening would be to gasp for breath, the second would be to check on Elisabeth. I couldn't feel comfortable until I knew she was there, resting peacefully beside me. Every night she was, and it made me feel amazing.
When you believe that the love of your life has just died, and then realize they're perfectly safe and sound right next to you, off dreaming in another world far away, deep within their minds, well, there aren't many feelings better. That relief is unexplainable.

The dreams stuck though.

There she was, off in the distance. A shadow, a silhouette. A figure unknown, unknown to everybody but me. I could just tell, I just knew, I had that feeling. The girl of my dreams, the love of my life.

She stood at the edge of the bridge's rails. She looked down, looked up. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. A menacing grin, it felt evil. So unlike her.

She looked toward me, again, I couldn't see this, but I could feel it. Her eyes pierced through mine and into my brain. She'd stare at me the entire way down. She'd fall, staring at me. Not losing that eye contact. She'd hit the water, and she'd die. Floating away from me, further and further away. All I could do was stand there and watch her, the love of my life, my soul mate, my second half. I'd watch her float, and I'd never see her again.

20

Elisabeth couldn't know about these dreams, they didn't only haunt me. They began to fascinate me. It made me feel sick. If I told her about these feelings, she'd just think I was fucked in the head. Looking at the amount of drugs I did, and childhood memories I'd shared with her, she probably already did think that. I'm sure she did, she just always kept it to herself.

It was near the two year mark, we'd almost spent so long together.

One year and ten months to be exact. It was that day. Our monthly anniversary, and yes, we did celebrate every month, our day was always special, always new. The 23^rd. My favourite day of every month.
Usually we would go out for food, grab a few drinks sometimes, back before I quit drinking. Whatever we did, even if it was staying at our apartment and watching a movie or two, I loved it. It was my favourite thing in the world.

I had bought Elisabeth an engagement ring by now, and I was just wondering when I should do it. It took me a lot of time, but I made up my mind. I'd propose to her on the eleventh month of our first year. It just felt right.

I loved the ring I had for her, it was beautiful. Nothing too fancy, an opal ring. I remembered from months before I bought the ring, she mentioned loving opal rings. I knew she would find this ring to be perfect. I loved it, she would too. My ring? It was nothing special, I was nothing special. So I cheaped out on myself, that was okay. My life hadn't become about me, my life was about her.

I was preparing to propose to her, it was right around the corner now. One month away. I was scared, nervous as f**k. But, I was ready. I loved Elisabeth with every part of my existence. Elisabeth loved me just the same. We were ready for this. We'd been through Hell together, many (98%) of the stories have been removed from this memoir (for privacy concerns, and morals), but if only I could share with you guys... She wouldn't like it though, and I have to make her happy.

We spent out 22^nd month together like we did every month on our day. We went for food, noodle bowls. It was a regular thing for us, always at this place downtown. She loved it more than anything, more than anywhere we'd ever gone. They were vegetarian friendly, and Elisabeth had become one about a year beforehand, I did this with her.

Let me add, being a vegetarian is f*****g fun.

After our meal, we went home. We had sex (I can't believe I've left that subject out this entire time, let me tell you something about Elisabeth. She was perfect, she had a perfect personality, a f*****g amazing [perfect] body, and she was beyond perfect in the bed.), and then we went to bed. Holding hands. Cuddling. It was perfect, and after all the s**t we'd gone through in the past month or so before this, it was exactly what we needed.

I didn't dream that night, it was the first night in what felt like years where I finally had a good rest. It was perfect, her and I were perfect. I thought.

21

It was time. A month had passed, and I don't write about that month in detail because not a lot had happened then. She was in school every day, and at work every night. I was at work all day, then at home, doing nothing really. We'd spend our nights together, and we were getting along just fine.

The dreams had really left my mind around that time. I worried less and less, perhaps I was just blind. Blind by my imagination. Perhaps only I thought her and I were perfect still. I must have been blind.

I may have forgotten the dreams, that demon may have left me for a bit, giving me a break. Maybe it felt sorry for me, for what was yet to come. I don't know. I don't want to know. I don't even want to write anymore, but I'm in too deep. I can't hold back, not now.

That reminds me of a story. Elisabeth was convinced I wasn't telling her things quite a bit, said I was keeping secrets a lot. She'd always say that, “Don't hold back now.”
Truthfully, I never did. I always told her everything, she was my second half. I swear. I never kept a secret from her.

Elisabeth and I were going for a walk. My idea was to propose to her in the woods. It was a path we took often. When I first visited her in Saskatoon she took me around, showed me her favourite spots. Those woods became my favourite spot. There was just something about it, it had hidden pathways everywhere, a little area where homeless folk slept (that spot always fascinated me), etc. I just felt very comfortable in those woods. I entertained the idea of death as well, as it haunted me so much in my sleep it began to haunt me when I was conscious. I figured, that if my time were to ever come. The day I feel as though I have served my purpose here on Earth (we all think about that day at some point in time, and I am sure at some point we all feel it has come), I would make like the love of my life, except I'd do it in those woods. A noose. A tree. I had the spot picked too, there were burnt logs in the area, and some kitchen supplies. Pots and pans. They had been there for months, nobody ever claimed them. Just remnants, memories to somebody. I liked that spot, I didn't like how open it was, anybody passing by would see. But it was a comfortable spot, I'd do it if I ever really felt like I had to.

I didn't like thinking of that, though. Suicide wasn't ever my thing, not too much. Pain, sure. Punishment, sure. But not death. Never death.

We loved those walks, I loved those woods, and I always made sure the two of us would make our way to the bridge she loved, the bridge I loved, but now feared so much.

I would propose to her on that bridge, not in the woods.

Our walk was quite quiet, we discussed her university classes, and all of the other things that are commonly discussed among normal people. We were normal.

As we approached the bridge, I began to talk about the future, just telling her about how badly I'd love to spend the rest of my life with her, things I had said before.

I was sweating, I remember. It wasn't the hottest day outside, it was warm, but a tad chilly due to some wind. I was nervous, that was where the sweat was coming from.

I don't even remember my exact words anymore, not like they matter. I never did it. I hadn't proposed to her. Something came up. It wasn't the right time. I got a phone call, I tried so hard to ignore. But there was that feeling again, the same feeling that took over me when Blaine called about Eddie. I had to answer. I knew Elisabeth had no idea I'd propose to her. She didn't seem to mind.

“Derek?” Said the person on the other line.

“Yeah, hello?” I didn't know who it was.

“Are you with Elisabeth? I need to talk to her.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I handed her the phone, I was curious. It was a female on the other line, perhaps a relative, or an old friend who had somehow got my phone number.

Elisabeth stopped as soon as she began speaking to the woman on the other line.

I saw it, and it crushed me. A tear ran down her face, I knew what it was. Somebody died.

How many people did her and I need to lose? How many? She was finally becoming happy again.

She hung up the phone, gave it back to me, and continued walking.

“What is it?” I asked her, I didn't want to seem as though I already knew what it was about, or thought I knew.

She wouldn't say a word. My dream came true. My nightmare. Right before my eyes. She looked at me on that bridge, she told me loved me. She meant it, I could hear it in her voice.

I thought I'd had a broken heart when bad s**t happened before. Now I realize that was crap, I haven't been able to function since the day I saw her jump. It wasn't my nightmare. It was nowhere near being close to my nightmare. This was much worse. I have nothing more to say about how bad it is. Any f*****g idiot would understand this s**t.

She looked at me, her face was covered in tears. I tried to comfort her, to move closer. I could feel our end coming. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't grab her. Something was stopping me. Some f*****g force was stopping me. I can't explain it, nobody would believe it. There was just something there, something powerful. I could feel it, and it was saying to me, “Don't even f*****g try, Derek.” I tried though, but I couldn't do anything, I was useless, I couldn't help.

She didn't look like herself anymore, she just kept whispering it. “I love you, Derek.” “I love you.” “I love you so much.” in that perfect f*****g voice of hers, those would be the words, the voice, the f*****g everything that haunts me to this day. The reason I started drinking again. The reason I started smoking again. The reason I get drunk for a week straight and forget to write this f*****g thing.

She let herself go, and I couldn't run toward her any closer than I was, I couldn't get closer until it was too late. I saw her fall, her dress flying up in the wind as she fell down in the river.

I could try writing millions of different words, it wouldn't make a difference. I died with her that day. I f*****g died too!
I'm nobody now, I thought I was nobody before. Seeing the last look in her eyes, like she wasn't even alive anymore. She was dead before she jumped. Her voice was faint, fading away, but still spilling out her last words, the last bit of truth she'd ever speak. God. It haunts me.

“I love you, Derek.” “I love you.” “I love you so much.”

I'd f*****g die to hear that f*****g voice again, and I have nothing to hold onto anymore. She's gone. I phoned that f*****g number back, nothing, no answer. It didn't even f*****g ring. It was a cellphone, and it never seemed to work after the phone call it made to me, for Elisabeth.

She was gone now. She's gone.
I'm gone now, I left with her that day. I sit around, empty. Elisabeth never had a funeral, she never had much family. She had me. I had her. She's dead. I'm dead with her.

My last real memory, the last thing I remember before I died with her, I dropped that ring. It chased after her almost lifeless body as it fell toward the cold water of the Saskatoon river. The girl of my dreams, the love of my life.
There was no menacing grin, there was pain. Nothing but pain. It stabbed me, stabbed me like Blaine had been stabbed that night where he did cocaine with me. The last night he did drugs. I have a feeling the stabbing I got was and still is one billion times worse than what he felt that night.

It kills me. It did kill me. I write lifelessly. The way she had floated away from me, lifelessly. Further and further away. All I could do was stand there and watch her, the love of my life, my soul mate, my second half. I'd watch her float. I'd drop that ring, watching it chase after her. The ring screaming, “Don't leave. Don't die. Don't f*****g die.” They both died. I followed. Somehow.
But I am here, writing this. Yet ending it all the same. There's no more story after this. There's nothing more to say. The story of my life, and everything else ended the day Elisabeth left me. The day my second half floated away.

22

Dad,

You know I have gone through Hell. I know you have been there with me, not in my Hell. But a Hell of your own. I know you better than you know yourself, and you know me just the same. That being said, I know you understand. I love you.

Derek,
I write to you, myself, to help you understand. She left for a reason, she's in a better place now. Why? You don't know. I don't know. But you know her, you know Elisabeth. She hasn't left you, you haven't left her. You're doing the right thing. You've done well. Be with her, it feels right and you know that. Be with Eddie, be with your second half. You're nothing without her. I know it. You know it.
--------

I'll walk to those woods, I'll make out that bridge in the distance, blurred even with my glasses on. I'll make my way to that tree, the only thing on my mind, the love of my life. The girl of my dreams. The love I lost, and the love I will soon gain once again. It is right. She needs me, her and I were nothing without each other, nothing until we had each other.

This is what I must do, to hear that voice

(I love you, Derek. I love you. I love you so much)

I'd do anything.

I died with her, I am lifeless. I write blindly now, and all I feel is the burn of the whiskey, sinking down my throat. Floating away, through my stomach to my liver. As Elisabeth floated through that river. My life, floating away. All I could do was watch. All I could f*****g do.

I leave this memoir, I leave this note, I leave this letter.
Perhaps somebody will learn from this, perhaps somebody will share this. There is no purpose, love is boring, love is dangerous. A lethal weapon.

There is no drug more addicting, an overdose on cocaine doesn't feel half as deadly as love.

Take my words for what you will. I am happy now. Elisabeth is happy now, and what more did I want in life? I wanted her. I wanted that smile. I'll have it again, I'll have that voice again

(I love you, Derek. I love you. I love you so much)

And I know, I know, I know. Everything will be perfect. 

Author's Note

Please leave constructive criticism, this work is a fictional memoir. I would like to hear opinions, but honest opinions that offer advice in how to approve my writing. This was a brand new style of writing for me. I want to make more stories similar to this, as well as a non-fictional memoir of my own one day. Any criticism is highly appreciated.

Thank you.

Reviews

[Cheshire]

I started reading it a bit, but several things right away threw me off a bit. One, you need a kind of hook, something that makes people start thinking about your story, and make them want to read more. It can be action, mystery, or any number of things, just something that sets the mood for the entire read-through. Two, your wording leaves a bit of awkwardness, several times I had to stop reading, and read over the last sentence a few times to understand exactly what you meant. You don't want short, bullet-style sentences, but you don't want extravagantly long ones either, connected with words that don't belong in the sentence. Three, while the use of curse words has its place in writing, you severely limit your audience by using them outside of conversation. Younger audiences will typically not read stories using an abundance of them, and older audiences will be turned off by the excessive use of them with no purpose. I generally don't use them at all, unless I have a particularly roguish character, and only in speech. Lastly, don't be afraid to use spacing to your advantage. It allows for a much greater ease of reading, and shows clear breaks in dialogue and switches in character point of view.

My suggestion is do a thorough proofread, read the sentences that you wrote aloud, one at a time, and if it feels awkward saying them, try to reword them to make a bit more sense.

[Luke Oliver]

I'll consider your criticism next time I start a new project.
One thing I would like to point out is the mentioning of excessive cursing. I don't typically use many curses at all in my writing, this was a completely new thing for me to be honest.
The writing was a (fictional) memoir, so although the writing had a lot of cursing outside of speech. The writing itself is a piece of speech.
One man telling his story.

One more thing, perhaps I didn't make it very clear in the early stages of the writing, but there is a hook. The story is talking about how drugs can destroy you, etc. As well as leading up to the end of the narrator's story, the hook is all thrown together near the end. The point of my writing the story was to gain experience in a writing style like this, and receive criticism on how to improve.

I appreciate the review, thank you.