Disturbing Evidence of My Insanity

No one aspires to become a drug addict. One bad decision just follows another, and soon you’re trapped in the snowball, rocketing for hell. And that’s where I landed my third year in law school. It started with prescription Adderall (speed for studying), but then I couldn’t sleep, so I added GHB (the liquid date rape drug) to my cocktail. And so it went, escalating, until I lost all reason and control – and found myself in a freefall without a parachute. I was f#cked! Once after missing two weeks of class, I thought it was a good idea to write my professors a letter explaining everything, so I spent ten hours drafting a six page, single spaced, blithering essay of madness. Then I blew through the side door into the registrar’s office, threw them on her desk, and requested that she place them in my professor’s boxes. Then blew right back out the door, without even taking off my sunglasses. Well, thank God, I’d developed a strong relationship with the registrar, back in saner days, even took her some Christmas presents. (This is a tale of good karma) After reading a few sentences, she called my best friend into her office and asked what he thought. He read a few lines and asked if those were all the copies. Relieved to hear they were, he quickly shredded them, except one, which he kept for his amusement, to heckle me with, citing his favorite lines – which I’m too embarrassed to repeat. After ten years, I made him hand it over. That night, I attempted a read through, but couldn’t choke down more than a few sentences. My stomach knotted up. My throat shut. I literally couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe I forged such words. I mean, looking back, I knew I was crazy, but not that crazy. For an instant, I thought about shredding it, wanting to destroy the evidence, but then realized, my insanity during that era was hardly hidden within the four corners of that document. That was me then. That was my life. And everyone who knew me, or even saw me from a thousand yards, knew I was out of my skull. I still haven’t read it. I can’t bring myself to it. But it remains in my desk as a humble reminder – of a place I must never forget – the endgame of seemingly legitimate drug use. Nothing good ever comes from drugs. Hope you don’t have to learn the same lesson.   

If those letters had been distributed, I’m sure they’d still adorn the walls of each professor, affording them hearty laughs for the rest of their lives.

Sky diving without a parachute – not recommended.  Carr 47 B 018.white

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