early2000s | fuckshit x oc | mid90s

December 31, 1999

Detox might've been the hardest thing I've ever done.

The fact that I spent Christmas in there makes me hate that shit even more.

Before I went into it, Lisa told me that withdrawing from opioids would be hard because they're highly addictive and potent. I don't really know what potent means if I'm being honest. But apparently it makes it really fucking hard to get off it.

And hard it was. I didn't know what the fuck was happening to me. I didn't expect it to be that bad since I'd been doing decent for a day. But I was more wrong than I've ever been.

The first few days were the worst. The only thing I kept in mind was that it would be over in a few days. Now it is.

Lisa led me back to the co-ed room that I was in a week ago. We didn't talk on the way there.

I opened the door and again, Kian whipped his head around, cocking his head.

The door quietly closed.

"Dang, for an already skinny guy, you look like you lost 10 pounds."

I clenched my jaw.

"I don't know if I can stay here," I say, biting the inside of my cheek.

"What do you mean?" Kian says, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"I just, I didn't even ask to be he–"

"Don't even finish what you're about to say," he says, getting up and sitting next to me.

"You just went through hell, and unless you stay, you will be stuck in hell. Trust me," he says, patting my back.

He might've been right. Lately, I feel like a lot of people have been right except for me.

"Thanks," I say. "I guess."

There was another knock at the door, and after 5 seconds it was open.

"Group therapy," the deep voice says. It's not Lisa.

I did some smaller group sessions during detox, but I hadn't done one with an actual group, you know? I didn't really want to talk to other people right now, not about my life, my addiction, anything. I just wanted to relax.

We followed the man to the room where it was being held at. There were only 8 people in the circle, each with their own chair. I don't know if that's a little or a lot of people in this situation, but to me it's a little. I decided to sit next to Kian since he's the person I'm most comfortable with. I didn't get a good vibe from this place. A couple people looked like they died a week ago and the ambiance was unsettling. Some people actually do look like they're starting to get help from this place. That was one nice thing to see.

"Alright, let's get started," the man said, rolling his sleeves up.

"So, before we really get into it, we actually have someone new joining us," he says, glancing at me. "His name is Olan. Why don't we give him a nice welcome."

The crowd said "welcome" in an asynchronous tone. Real welcoming. Kian laughed and nudged my arm, making me smirk for the first time in a while.

"So, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself and why you're here. Remember, no one here is judging."

I cross my arms. "Why don't you tell us about yourself first."

The man shrugged, slapping his hands together. "Well, my name is Khalil. I'm here because I like to help people and I want to learn a thing or two. I believe everyone deserves a chance to be themselves again," he finishes, looking at me. "Your turn."

I took a deep breath, staring at the ground. "For starters, I like to be called Fuckshit. I'm 20 and I'm addicted to pills," I say, slowly lifting my head back to the audience.

"Okay. Usually we talk about what we want to accomplish while we're here too. You know, I know it's weird opening up to strangers, but it can help. It's okay to have feelings, it's okay to be sad." Khalil says, tilting his head and giving me a gentle smile.

"I don't know, I think it's hard for me to communicate my feelings because sometimes I don't even know why I feel the way I do." I say at a low volume, huffing through my nose.

"Why did you choose to turn to pills?" Khalil asks.

I shrug. "I guess I thought they'd keep me leveled," I bit my lip. "Maybe I felt lonely."

"I'm sure there's much more to your story that maybe you don't feel comfortable sharing, and that's okay. We have individual therapy here a couple times a week," he says, flipping his dreads out of his face.

"Right."

I think me and Kian are actually kind of friends now. I don't really call people friends that often. If I know you, I know you. You know me, then you know me. It doesn't make us friends. But this guy is kinda cool.

"So what'd you think of the session?" he says, plopping down on the couch, reaching to turn on the TV.

"I don't know. I didn't like having to talk about my problems to a bunch of random niggas," I say, sitting down next to him.

"I get that. Khalil's right though. You'll probably like individual better."

"I guess I'll find out tomorrow," I say, biting my nails as I watch the TV flip channels.

"Yeah," he says, "Oh shit! I almost forgot that it's New Year's Eve," he sings.

New Year's Eve. Now, as much as I don't fuck with Christmas, New Year's is a whole different story. I think the best one I had was when I was a senior. Now that I look back on it, a lot of shit happened that year, probably not for the best, but it was fun.

"You have no idea how much it helps that I'm on drugs right now," I blurt out, laughing to myself.

"Jesus Christ."

Stevie and Ray stare at me, while I down my drink.

I smile. "What?"

Stevie gives me a half-hearted smile, scratching his neck. Ray shakes his head then grabs my drink and returns to the living room with Stevie.

"That's fucked up," I call after them, but they didn't hear me over the loud music. Actually, I don't know if the music was loud, but it was to me.

"Yo, Fuckshit," a voice says, coming closer.

Once I turn around, I see Ruben, and Fourth Grade following behind him. Ruben scratches his nose while smoking a rello.

"I'm tryna go to IHOP," he says, blowing the smoke in my face.

I push him playfully, "What's that gotta do with me?"

He looks at Fourth Grade, like I said something stupid. "You're the one with the fucking car," he rolls his eyes. "Duh."

"I'm not fucking driving nigga."

"No shit dumbass. Who the fuck was going to let you in the first place? Never again."

"Chill. Lemme get a hit though," I nod in the direction of the blunt.

"I thought you said you quit last week," Fourth Grade says, raising his eyebrow.

"I did," I cross my arms. "Last week."

Ruben shakes his head. "You're fucking stupid, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, pass that shit though."

He holds his other hand out. "Keys first."

I groan, dropping my keys into his hand.

"Thanks," he says, walking away with my keys and the blunt.

I don't think much happened at the party after that. Well, there was. But you know, I'm a respectable young man, if you catch my drift. Otherwise, all I remember is being in a booth at IHOP with my friends.

"I wonder if the waitress knows that I'm high."