Dear Mom and Dad,

Last night after you both went to bed, I snuck out of the house to use meth. I snuck down the stairs only stepping on the corners so they wouldn’t creek. Of course you didn’t hear me open the door because I placed a magnet by it so you wouldn’t hear the beep when I opened it. I even went so far as to put my pillows in my bed with the covers pulled up in case you came into my room. 

My friends picked me up, but not from the house, from down the street. I told them to turn off the headlights so they wouldn’t attract any attention. We drove around the area while we got high, never driving past the house or the block, “just in case.” I was gone for a while, maybe 2 or 3 hours. After we got high, we got higher, "1 is too many and 1,000 is never enough."  Parked near dark areas and mailboxes, we were whisper quiet.

When it was time to come home, I made sure to spray myself down with cologne so I didn't smell like chemicals or anything suspicious. I opened the front door slowly and once I was inside took the magnet off the door. It was early now and I knew one of you would be getting up soon so I crept back up stairs, again stepping only on the edge of the stairs and went back into my room.

Of course I couldn’t sleep, so I quietly cleaned my room, every inch was immaculate. I was paranoid by this point so I made sure nothing looked out of place and anything incriminating was hidden. I heard you getting ready so I slid into bed and waited, waited for you to open my door and see if I was ok before you left. I pretended to be sleeping only long enough for you to see I was fine.
Your baby was sleeping like the angel you always knew growing up, so well behaved and innocent…if you only knew how far from the truth that was.

My life now revolves around getting high, finding it, and using it.  No matter how devious I have to be, no matter how many lies I tell, and how much hurt I cause to those close to me...my name is _______ and at one point I was your child, but now I am “not your kid.”

I never sent this letter.

It was written recently as part of my recovery.
I have been blessed with a second chance. I am part of a 1.6% recovery group. I choose to be clean, and I choose to sober.
But I used to walk a different path.

Growing up, my father was a tough New York cop who wanted only the best for his family …  so he moved us to warm, sunny, clean Arizona. Unknowingly he moved me and my family to the city with the nation’s second largest population of meth users.
I was enrolled in the best, newest schools, but meth use can happen anywhere, even in the library bathroom, where I first tried it.

My parents liked my friends, they were courteous and well mannered, all of them though, were seasoned con-artists. Don't be fooled by covers and appearances. Looks can be very deceiving…

I started using meth during the school year, but then summer came. I don’t remember much about that summer.  It was one big high.  Summertime is a different time; a time when we don’t have school to worry about, we can sleep in, or not sleep at all.  Everyone is in the “party” mindset: time to get trashed.