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Daniel Reyes


I watched the needle enter into my arm. The brown liquid inside turned into black from my blood being mixed into it. All hope faded away from thoughts and I watched as dreams became nightmares. 

How and when did I get to this point in life? Is this everything I have to look forward to in life? In only a couple years, I went from a happy kid, or so I thought, to just another person in prison using heroin. Looking back you might not have seen this life for me, but deep within I have been waging a battle for my sanity. Prison only added to my heartaches of a troubled life.

Can anyone help or come to my aid? These are questions only I can answer from within. Did I turn to heroin to cope with my mother’s death only weeks before? Having that needle go into my arm did not release or peel me from my thoughts. It masked the pain with warmth and a sense of euphoria I never knew existed.

Now what excuse can I use to let others know life is much better now that I can’t feel or see that needle sticking out of my arm.

Knowing that being in prison wasn’t the bottom for me. It was being in prison and not caring for myself. 

Painting by Gwynne Duncan 

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