*** This essay covers a lot of ground in only a handful of paragraphs and is obviously very much from my perspective. As such, some folks detailed in this account could take umbrage with my version of events, certain details, or omissions. And that would be totally understandable. Some people have been left out altogether, if only for the efficiency of this particular telling. I say this because I don’t want anybody who may have been intimately involved in any of these chapters of my life to wonder why I’m leaving out very pertinent or meaningful details and moments. I’m sincerely attempting to own my own actions as much as possible. But not everything needs to be itemized today. My purpose here is to bridge the gap between my first run-in with opiate addiction and the second. While also providing some background and context that might be helpful. Thanks for understanding. ***
After getting out of military prison and living with my sisters for a brief but wondrous time, I saved up enough money to move to Colorado. That’s where a woman I was very much in love with, who had stuck by my side through the whole sordid ordeal and then some, had recently relocated. And thus began the beautiful but brutal story of my adult love life.
Up until that point, she had been married and had three wonderful children. I knew her, and them quite well. She was my best friend and confidant and had been for years. But self-centeredness and hopeless romanticism were traits I possessed in abundance as a young man. I fell madly in love with her and managed to convince her that it was reciprocal. She left her husband, threw her life into turmoil, and took a lot of criticism squarely on the chin, for us.
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