Welcome To My Dark Carnival: The Beginning (Part 2, may be triggering)
Scale of Lies! Gaze into the crystal ball of Madam Marie Claire! See our newest funhouse, Mutilation Madness! Ride the Cocaine Train and the hellacious Bulimicoaster! Visit the Halls of Increasingly-Cherubic Mirrors, now with Talking Conscience! Every step you take drags you deeper into the abyss! Nobody knows where it ends, and some don't ever see daylight again! Are you willing to risk it all in the Dark Carnival?
I started smoking pot at age 16, after a breakup with a boy i had been dating for 14 months. I was so depressed, I ate nothing, and drank nothing but pop and excessive amounts of alcohol. My teeth were awful from all the sugar, my hair was thinning (because I dyed it so much. typical rebellious teenager), and I was losing weight. People told me I looked really good, and I soaked up their praise like a sad sponge. My not-eating went on for two months. One day, I started eating again. But, that's where my real downfall was.
I was 16, had a BMI of 34.6 (we got it measured in gym class. It was humiliating being the "fattest" one, even though I had TONS more muscle than those girls), and a mother that drilled it into my head every single day. "You're eating AGAIN?" "You should dye your hair blonde and get a tan" "Only eat 500 calories a day". Those words hurt coming from your own mother. I know, she just wanted the best for me, and for me to be happy, but nothing made me more depressed than not meeting Mother's expectations. Going to parties with my 98-pound cousin, while she got all the guys, made me absolutely despise myself. Mom rubbing it in that her friend's daughter, who is a year younger than me, is going to become a model (and her cousin is Amber Stevens, who plays Ashleigh Howard on Greek) made me loathe my body even more.
I started smoking methamphetamine with my friend's mom (while my friend was in rehab for an overdose) shortly before I turned 17. I was a second-soprano in choir, and with the meth and cigarettes, my voice was shot. Well, meth was far too expensive of a habit, and I was losing a lot of weight already. She had given me some morphine pills. She showed me how to crush, dilute, and shoot them. I refused to shoot it into my arm, so I used my hand. I tied off with my sweatshirt sleeve, and got the vein right away.
By the time I was 17, I was hooked. I carried a purse with me constantly, that had makeup, and three fixes of morphine inside it. I would sign out of class to go to the bathroom, and bring my purse, and shoot up in the bathroom stall, and go back to class. I would go to her house, and we would travel 20 miles to visit an older gent, around 80, who would sell us morphine. He would have t get up and go to the bathroom sometimes, because he was always drunk when we showed up, so we would steal about 6 more pills each. He gave me extra if I let him give me a kiss. I needed more to feel normal and get rid of the pain in my joints, so I let him. Nothing more ever happened with that, thank God..