Adolescence.

25.

Tupac
January 3rd, 1993
5:07 A.M.

I tossed and turned for the millionth time tonight. I felt horrible, I threw up about three times and I had the chills.

A drug addiction isn't a joke and it's extremely hard trying to withdraw from it. I just wanted this whole stage to be over. I regret the day I took that shit.

More than ever I wanted to be home but I couldn't let my family see me this way. I couldn't let them see the what the fame had done me. But then again this was the time that I needed someone to lean on. The time I needed someone to confine in. Out here I don't have anyone and everyday, I regret leaving home.

I stood up and tried to get ahold of myself. I had kicked all the groupies out of my condo. I didn't need all the extra shit around me.

The minute I stood up the room started spinning around me. There was only so much I could take and right about now I have had enough.

I stumbled across the room with a pounding headache and went to my drawer. I looked through it and found what got me in this predicament now. My Oxycodone pills. I popped three and went and sat on the bed. I waited for my high to come on.

Eventually my anxiety started to ease, I became relaxed, the pain stopped, and I had this feeling of euphoria. I was back in my happy place as my brain fought at all the negative thoughts which eventually faded away.

***

I woke up at 12:00 and I decided enough was enough. I needed help, I needed to see my family. My head was already pounding which meant my body was feening for more pills. I can't keep living like this. I feel like a crackhead. I never thought I'd stoop this low.

I started packing all of my things; clothes, shoes, pictures, jewelry, and other shit I had. I wasn't leaving anything behind because I had worked so hard for everything I had. Everything I have, I got it on my own.

I decided to put my furniture in storage until I figured out what to do with it.

After making sure I had everything situated in L.A., I took the next plane to New York.

When I touched down I wanted to cry. It felt so good being home. The first thing I did was go to the place I called my home months ago. I rung the doorbell and Chauncey answered.

"Yooo...Omar!" His tone changed when he realized who I was.

"What up man." We embraced each other in a brotherly hug.

"Where everybody at?" I asked after we released from our hug.

"Running the streets but come in." Chauncey mumbled the first part.

Running the streets? What could Nas and Ezra possibly be doing, fucking bitches?

"Where ma and pops?" I questioned more.

"Work and shit. What you doing here?" Chauncey asked.

"I'm moving back, and no I won't be staying here. I'm gonna get me a place somewhere."

"That's good, what made you want to move back?"

I went blank for a second. There was no way I could tell my little brother who looks up to me that I moved back to New York so I can get off of drugs.