I was just barely 18 when my friend pulled a U-Haul up to my parent’s garage and we loaded my furniture, my clothes, my toys (TV, MP3 player and stuff like that) and headed back to Atlanta.  I was excited and full of hope and ambition.

My

Paranoia had set in. I stayed in the far corner of my room, on the far corner of a mattress that was so filthy my parents threw it out when they came down.

mom and step dad moved up to a small town in NC to try to give my sisters and me a different kind of life.  I hated it.  I spent a year there, went to the community college and took courses in Internet technologies.  I made A’s and learning came easy for me.  As soon as I turned 18 I made plans to get back to Atlanta as soon as the semester was over.  I wanted some fun and excitement in my life.

I had all the hopes and dreams of anyone who was first getting out on their own.  We got an apartment, set up the place, and my friend went to work.  I brought with me about $15,000 – money I had inherited from my grandfather.  I didn’t need to work right away because I had a bunch of money, so I decided to kick back for a couple weeks and relax.  I met a few guys that turned me on to some meth one night.  I wasn’t afraid of it because I knew I was different.  I have been through a lot in my life and was always

I went from a guy with $15,000, high hopes and plans to homeless, penniless, sick and begging for money...

ok.  I could use a little and still get my life together in Atlanta.

Addiction happens quickly. 

Within days, all I cared about was more meth.  I started shooting meth.  I would stay up for days at a time.  I quit eating.  My roommate moved out.  My mother came down to check on me and I was living in filth.  There was trash all over the counters, the floor, my bed.  Paranoia had set in.  I stayed in the far corner of my room, on the far corner of a mattress that was so filthy my parents threw it out when they came down.  Most of my clothes were missing.  I sold everything of value, my money was half gone.  I never bothered to get a job.  I moved onto the streets.  I was so paranoid that it almost incapacitated me.  I saw white vans everywhere that I knew were filled with people trying to catch me.  I became so delusional and paranoid that I tried to get home and my mom even bought me

The need is so strong, the addiction so powerful that just the familiar sights of the city drove me instantly back into it's clutches.

a plane ticket and I couldn’t get through the airport because everyone looked like they were talking about me and after me.  I was paralyzed with paranoia and had to leave the airport.  I thought that if I got on that plane they would kill me. 

I met a girl and she and I lived on the streets.  My money was now all gone.  I hadn’t been in Atlanta six months and I went from a guy with $15,000, high hopes and plans to homeless, penniless, sick and begging for money from passersby.  In the bitter cold nights I could usually call my parents or grandparents and talk them into a hotel room.  They would beg me to come home and get well, but I couldn’t.  I needed the meth.  I went home on Thanksgiving and slept through it.  I slept four days straight and only woke up to use the bathroom or get a drink of water.  The fifth day I got up and went early in the morning to the bus station and got back to Atlanta as quickly

It presents itself as your best friend, but quickly becomes the antichrist in your life. Once you've been there you almost can't escape -- I'm still not sure I've escaped.

as I could. I needed more drugs. 

Time went on and my friends started disappearing.  My real friends were tired of me and my user friends where only around with I had some.  All that I had was my girlfriend and a few “friends” I would get meth from.  I would beg my mom for money for food or medicine to buy meth.  I knew I could get it because she was so worried.  I still refused to go home. 

Finally my girlfriend had enough and called my mom on Easter Sunday.  We got on a bus and headed straight for North Carolina and had I not, I surely would have been dead within weeks. 

I have developed a cyst in my back so full of toxins that they operated within days.  I stayed sick for three years even though I got clean. Later on, doctors would find a staff infection in my leg bones, most likely as result of shooting meth in that leg.  Two years after getting clean, I went back to Atlanta.  I was barely in the city when I was back buying meth again.  The need is so strong, the addiction so powerful that just the familiar sights of the city drove me instantly back into it’s clutches.  Within two months I had lost 40 pounds and was again deathly sick.  I would only eat fast food once every few days.  My friend who was letting me stay with him finally kicked me out.  I tried to find someone else to stay with but all my friends were sick of it.  I had nowhere to go.  I wanted to come home, but I was so sick I didn’t think I could get there.  It took me 17 hours to get six hours up the road.  I came home looking like a dead person – wasted away to nothing in two months time.  All my bones were protruding out.  I was hospitalized for a month when I got home and about a month after that they found the infection in my leg, which I nearly died from. I was told that there was a good possibility that I would lose my leg, but a specialist at Duke became involved and was able to save it after many surgeries and hospital stays.

Meth is a killer.  I can't go to Atlanta today without messing up.  It presents itself as your best friend, but quickly becomes the antichrist in your life. Once you’ve been there you almost can’t escape --  I’m still not sure I’ve escaped.

Out of all the things I’ve done in my life and the drugs I’ve tried, this one is the one that I thought would put me in my grave and it would have if I did not have a strong family who finally stepped through the meth wall and yanked me back to life.