My Trip to Sin City “She dispels smoke from her lips-/And slowly floats away with it-/Letting go of so much pain-/Her tears are thick enough to stain-/The pavement that slowly becomes-/
Her best friend when she needs to run away” (Between The Trees, lines 3-8). Just like this girl, anyone can feel and experience true pain that appears to burden those when adolescence is reached. Every day, there are approximately 11 youth suicides and it is estimated that about two million people in the U.S. injure themselves in some way. I have been in this tragic position before and I have experienced these statistics and have even partaken in self-harm as an individual. The use of drugs, the admission into a rehabilitation facility, and the cruelness of a blade have made me into who I am today and have changed my life entirely.
Moving to the city known as “Sin City” was the turn that I was unable to choose due to my father being in the military but, everything after that was a constant wrong turn after another. Not having any friends led me into a desperate state for companionship. The other kids that lived there were incredibly different from the kids that I grew up with in Colorado. They had different desires, interests, and were over all a separate human species in my eyes. I would spend my time at the skate park because it was a calm place where I didn’t need to socialize with others. I was happy when I was there alone, but when others would arrive I was made fun of because I was young and “immature”. I took the discriminations as long as I could until I just wanted to fit in with the older kids and feel like I belonged. It started out small with cigarettes, but that led to weed and then even bigger and harsher drugs that in the end left me with a smaller friend’s group then before I was doing drugs. My drug issues caused so many problems with my education, relationships, and most importantly with my family. It was tearing my parents apart and left my siblings questioning their own ideals. I came to the decision that I needed to attend to my personal problems that I created for myself. My parents and I came to the strong hard choice to admit myself into Spring Mountain, a rehabilitation facility.
The facility welcomes me with its beautiful exterior and its homey waiting room. The furniture and paintings hung upon the wall remind me of my grandmother’s house. A smile sneaks its way onto my face. I quickly remove it when I enter the examination room where they search me for drugs or anything else that is prohibited. We discuss my drug problems and prescriptions were filled out to help me throughout the time I would be spending there. I get escorted down the hall where I approach my room at the very end of the hallway. I remember it being on the left where my roommate Isaac greets me with a rather fidgety handshake and an unsure personality. He explained what we did every day from classes on drug problems to the time we would eat. The classes were helpful and enlightened me on new ways to deal with my stress and everyday life issues. The people were everything from strange to sweet. I accepted everyone equally as others did unto me. After two weeks of being in the inpatient program, my parents thought it was a good idea to put me into the facilities’ outpatient program where I would still receive therapy and careful watching while doing my school work in