My Name is Cali … This is how I became a homeless drug addict
My name is Cali. “Cali with a heart” I always dot the “ i “with a heart, I started that in grade seven I thought it made me really cool, Ha ha I still kind-a do. I had the best childhood, as kids, me and my brother, would stay in our pajamas Saturday morning watching cartoons eating mom’s famous oatmeal muffins. She was always baking cookies and stuff. My parents would pile us in the car, and we go to the beach or for ice cream in the summer. They were always there at my brothers games and my piano lessons. It was great. I miss those days, hard to think about now.
When I was in Grade 12 I was excited about going to college in a new city, I had worked at the mall for two years to save for school with my best friend Kendra. We were going to take the same program and hopefully share the same dorm room. We would sit for hours plotting and planning our new life. Mom was sad that I was going away but still helped me figure it out. My parents bought me a bunch of cool stuff at Ikea for my room. I was so excited.
I was a pretty good kid but sometimes Kendra and some other friends would have a few drinks even get a bit wasted sometimes. We tried some dope in grade 10, it was cool didn’t cause any harm and it made us laugh hysterically over nothing. It was pretty innocent, mom knew my brother and I smoked it sometimes, but she didn’t say too much. One day we were at a party and some kid brought some shrooms, that’s what we call magic mushrooms. She stole a few from her mom, like seriously … her mom and her friends did mushrooms. We had a good laugh about that. So how bad can they be? The summer of grade twelve we smoked a bit of dope, did a few mushrooms and drank, but no more than other kids, probably less. It was a fun summer hanging out with my friends, working at the mall, my parents even rented a cottage that year.
September arrived and my new adventure was about to begin. Kendra and I didn’t get assigned the same room, but she was down the hall so it was OK. Mom and Dad and even my brother came, we drove to my school which was only a couple of hours away from home. We unpacked and made up the bed. My side of the room looked great. My dad made me a sign that said “Cali’s Room” he even dotted the i with a heart. I felt every emotion I was excited and scared and kind-a sad. Mom cried, so did my little brother even though he said he was glad I was leaving and dad just hugged me and told me to behave. When they left I sat on my bed I felt a little lost, it was really weird.
Classes began, it was harder than I thought. Everyone wanted to party every night. I liked to party sometimes but not all of the time. But it was hard not too, I wanted to be part of it and it was fun. It was hard to study and go to classes, and we were staying up late. I was tired and missed a few classes. So I tried to party less, the dope and mushrooms were becoming a habit. I joined the gym at the school and didn’t miss any more classes. It was going OK, my parents would come on the week end and bring me treats, and we would go to Swiss Chalet for dinner, I missed them.
One Saturday night me and Kendra got invited to a party with some new friends from our program. We showed up and everyone was drinking and smokin’ up and the music was loud. I felt a bit overwhelmed, all these new people and music I had never heard. I smoked a joint and relaxed into it. It was fun we were having a good time. I remember I was sitting around the bonfire in their backyard and a guy passed around a joint, I was already kind-a high but I took it anyway. Wow! What was that? I thought it was just marijuana but it must have had something in it or was extra strong. Whatever, I felt amazing, like crazy amazing, like wow! I had never felt so happy and free.
The next morning I woke up feeling like crap and really let down. I had an overwhelming need to feel that way again … like the way I felt last night. Do ya get what I mean?
Yup! … That is how it all began. I never dreamed it would lead me to this place, this pathetic life I live now.
I started doing more dope, more shrooms, more booze … I needed more … more and more. I started to screw up at school. This new guy showed up, I thought he was nice. He somehow knew how to get drugs and stuff. He gave me some X one night. God, it was good. Then it went bad, I started to feel bad all the time and I looked awful. My parents know something was up but I would just tell them I was tired or some other lie. I still tried at school but it was hard and I felt stupid like I wasn’t capable of it. Sometimes I wanted to go home and sleep in my old bed and eat cookies and watch TV with my mom. I’d tell myself to stop … just stop … stop it all. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I felt bad, and I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I kept doing more.
I went home one weekend and my parent sat me down, told me they knew what was happening and that I needed to stop. They were right but I couldn’t … I couldn’t … didn’t they understand that? Then the fighting started. I became a little bitch probably because of the booze and drugs. I was spending all my school money that I had saved. My parents were worried but I didn’t listen. I know you probably don’t believe this but I did want to listen and I did want to quit. I could see I was screwing up and I wanted my old life back. BUT i just didn’t know how to stop.
After a few months, I had basically quit school, my little brother wouldn’t talk to me because I was hurting mom and dad. Mom was always crying and even dad sometimes. I was such a mess and I knew I was hurting everyone. Kendra and my old friends tried to sort me out, but they had given up on me by then too. I was lonely. One night after a big fight at home, Dad went for a walk to cool off, I looked in mom’s room, and she was laying on the bed crying. I knew it was my fault. I felt horrible and I knew I had to leave, so I would stop hurting everyone. So I … left … I just left, didn’t know where to go but I just left with the little money I had and started walking.
They didn’t kick me out, sometimes now when I am begging for money I lie and tell people my parents kicked me out, but they never would have, I know that. Making people feel sorry for me so they will give me money, because my parents kicked me out worked when I was younger but now I am almost 28 and now people just think I am I loser drug addict and look right past me like I don’t exist. I am a loser drug addict oh yeah booze too. I started doing dope to chill and fit in … now I do anything to just not feel … not feel anything, not lonely, not sad, not guilty, not even happy … just not feel anything. Nothing! It’s too hard too feel.
What’s it like living on the streets? strangers sometimes ask … I usually pull the tough guy act and say it’s cool, I like being free and living on my own terms. It’s bullshit of course. The truth is … the days are so so long and the nights … stretch to eternity … it’s cold, or hot and I never get to go in anywhere, I am always outside. The worst part is the loneliness, and I am scared all the time. I know I repulse people they cross the streets to avoid me. I get it. People are afraid of us or maybe afraid of being like us. I guess we are all scared sometimes.
Now here I am in a city I never dreamed I’d live … live, that’s a joke … if you call this living. I sometimes remember that dorm room all clean, with fresh sheets. Seems like a whole different lifetime, actually a whole different me. I’m not feeling sorry for myself I know it’s all my fault. Better not to think about my old life, my parents probably think I’m dead and my little brother must be all grown up now. I hope they never find me I don’t want them to see me like this. It’s getting dark … I better find somewhere to sleep maybe I’ll get lucky and score some crack … to be free … to not feel … to forget that I am that loser everyone sees … and not feel the shame … The shame is the worst part.
Nite …
My Name is Cali … Cali with a heart
