04/15/2023
Thirteen days ago, this box was a 23 year old person that couldn’t breathe on his own. A person that couldn’t think. A person that couldn’t move.
Nine days before that, this box was a broken human being. A person that couldn’t get away from himself. A person that couldn’t stop getting high — no matter the cost.
This box was a son, a brother, an uncle, a father, a friend.
22 days ago, he had the potential to become something better. He could have made it if he didn’t use just that one last time.
This box is my little brother. Whoever is reading this, if you’re still out there in pain and using drugs, know that there is a way out. Don’t let your mom be by your hospital bed crying, wondering why her son is dead. Don’t let your children grow up without a parent. Don’t let your friends or family wonder what more they could have done to help you. Don’t be a box in your brother’s car.
(This post is from a dear friend of mine, Billy. When we spoke with him, he said he wanted to use his heartache to try and help someone else. We need more Billy’s.)
