I could see that she was killing herself. I could see the excitement in her face every time she injected that poison into her lungs just to feel a temporary buzz. It hurt to see her own self-destruction consume her. Every time we got home, she would reach into her bag and put the poison to her lips. I knew she didn't care about her well-being, and she didn't consider how her actions affected me. She was too far gone in her obsession. That’s the difficult thing about addicts— they're aware that what they're doing is unhealthy, but they lack the motivation to make an effort to stop. They lack the ability to recognize their problem. They lack the empathy necessary to see that they could be hurting others. That’s why I feel bad for them. That’s why I stayed by her side.

Addiction is a heavy burden that weighs down everyone, especially the addicts themselves. It’s common to demonize addicts and paint them as abusive monsters. While I agree that addiction can make people do or say twisted things, I don’t agree with the general stigma that surrounds it. Addicts are just scared children who are desperately trying to survive. What if you were depressed every day and your suffering became so unbearable that you considered taking your own life? Of course you would chase that one thing that makes you forget about your pain, no matter how temporary that relief is. Addiction is just the result of unhealthy coping mechanisms. However, that doesn't erase the pain you cause to others. It doesn't excuse your words or actions. That’s why addiction is such a tough topic to tackle. Addiction hurts everyone. And I needed to tell her that I was hurting.

The night we fought was a mess. I remember telling her how her substance abuse affected me. I told her she had a problem. She was drunk on the other end of the screen and started spitting insults and excuses at me. I couldn’t bear to see her like that. It hurt too much. I poured my heart and soul out in front of her as if it was an offering for the gods, and she discarded everything. My eyes were glossy and thick with tears. I sat and watched her in silence as my brain tried to comprehend the gravity of her words. Then she said it. The one thing that broke me.

“Why don’t you just leave me if I’m such a hot mess?”

Everything was finally clear. She would rather lose me than lose her drugs. But I would rather lose the world than lose her. I would rather lose every drop of blood in my body than lose her. I would rather lose my own life than lose her. And I know she felt the same way. She was just in so much pain that she wanted to push the problem away. She wanted to push me away.

I spent day after day watching her slowly kill herself, and I said nothing. Like all addicts, I knew she was in pain and just needed help. She didn’t need a lecture or punishment. What she needed was my support. That’s all I wanted to give to her. I just wanted her to know that I would love and help her through every step of her recovery.

But she didn’t want my help, and you can’t help someone who isn’t ready to be better. So I stayed by her side, ready and waiting to hold her when she cried, ready and waiting to serve her every need, ready and waiting to be the best friend I can be for her. I just want her to be okay. I just want her to be safe and happy.