A close friend died from an overdose almost a year back now, a few days before he died, the last time I saw him alive, I was kickin’ it with him. I had some valium, he asked if I had any but he was scaring me around that time taking a good deal of anything he did, he was already on methadone daily so he would take xanax, valium, perks, most of you know how that shit works. I tried to look out for the dude and told him I didn’t have any, sold it to someone else later that night when he left. When I heard about his death the morning after I was in shock for a bit, it wasn’t the first time I lost someone in my life, but it was the first time I felt guilty, since I did hook the kid up with connects, favors here and there for the extra loot, and the occasional nights of drug induced partying. Ever since that incident I have looked out for all my close friends and discourage their addictions. I hate most of the people he was around before he died now, they all do the same shit as if he didn’t even exist, but custies will be custies.
He was the most depressed person I knew, we went to middle school and high school together, his mom died when we were young and ever since he abused himself with all sorts of drugs, some were prescription anti depressants, but he eventually got into some heavy shit. I’m still friends with his older brother, I can only imagine how he feels nowadays, but he is a strong person I guess, doing good. I don’t know why I am sharing this story, most of you don’t care and probably had a similar experience, so I am going to shut up now.