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Six months had now past & I wasn't any closer now to dealing with my life than before. I had dropped a great deal of weight, overlooking the need to eat, by racing through the day on speed. I became very tired & couldn't sleep. My mind wouldn't shut off regardless of how much I grass I smoked. I saw myself, like a dog chasing his own tail. I concluded that if I couldn't escape my emotions by leaving Chicago, I might as well return. I picked up my things went to the freeway, said a quick prayer & was on my way.
Perhaps I thought that by facing the reality I could adjust & accept it. This might have been true, had I remained straight, but the first place I headed upon returning was my connections house & scored. After getting thoroughly stoned, I went to familiar places & took a look around. I returned to the hotel, that I had vacated just six months before and established residence. I then ventured out to look for work. Surprisingly enough, I was successful right off & landed a job as assistant manager with Colonel Sanders.
Feeling proud about my accomplishment, I decided this was a good reason to get stoned. Of course anything was a reason to use, whether it was bad or good reason. I continued to do drugs at work, and my performance on the job started to slow because of my drug usage. I began to spread drugs around at work. What I failed to see or realize that as I used more & more, I got further & further away from the person I had come to know as myself.
Pretty soon I wasn't above stealing, in order to get drugs.
Life became a game of cat & mouse; I was of imitating life rather than being a participant in life.
My drug usage had now escalated to the point that I had to become a small time dealer in order to afford the amount of drugs I now required. The fear of getting busted was a constant threat that I had to accept. I was looking in the rear view mirror constantly, rarely trusting anyone. Expecting everyone to bust me or set me up to get busted. I was controlled by fear, which was crippling my everyday affairs. I did more & more drugs, just to try to escape or overcome the fear, to no avail.
Then one day I met Sandy, an attractive, very nice girl, working at a liquor store that I frequented. The owner tipped me off to that she had expressed an interest in me. Knowing this, I became more interested in her. Perhaps if I hadn't been so strung out on drugs, I would have been more attentive towards details, details like how old she was. I assumed that she was at least 18 because she worked in a liquor store. But that wasn't the case, I shared my drugs with her, then I shared my bed.
It was only sharing my bed that I realized what a serious mistake I had allowed myself to make. Evidence that she was a virgin was upon my bed. In fear I asked how old was she, 15 was her reply.
Reality crashed in around me, I soon realized there was a chance of me losing my freedom, because of my carelessness; I had non-intentionally violated the statutory rape law. I couldn't afford to take the chance of breaking up with her, for fear of prosecution.
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