Since Elementary school, I had to learn about drugs and why not to use them. I always knew what was better and that drugs would lead me down a road, that I never wanted to grow fond with. However, I never thought that I would have a first hand taste of how drugs can change people into someone you don’t even know anymore. That was until I was twelve. My sister was a primary example of everything I never wanted to be.

When I was twelve, I noticed many changes in my sister and her behavior. ‘Drugs’ never popped into mind when I was thinking about her changes, however. It was always something different. Perhaps, just her getting older – that’s what I always told myself, that it was just her growing up and out of her old ways. I didn’t like it, but that’s the way things were and I dealt with it anyways. Although I had to deal with it, I still missed my old sister. The one that would always take care of me, make soup for me, do my hair, dress me up, be a good big sister. The ideal big sister, that’s exactly what she was. But “growing up” happened, and I was stuck with someone I didn’t know anymore.

Many months went by, even years and I saw things getting progressively worse in her attitude. More and more every day she has turned into someone I didn’t recognize, and it killed me inside. On top of it all, her boy friend was the enabler. He put her in the swing of her bad choices and behavior, he was part of the creation of a demon that was called my sister. He was everywhere she was, telling her what to do, how to do it, and why she shouldn’t change her ways. She did everything he told her to do and he supplied her with the drugs that ruined her life. I know that my sister makes her decisions and that it wouldn’t be hard for her to just get out of what she was doing, but she didn’t and she wouldn’t.

Too many cops at the house, too many phone calls at night, too many threats of suicide, too many fights – that was another thing I got used to. The never ending fights and cop calls and suicide threats. It’s a horrible topic for someone to just get used to, but I still learned to push it away and through it all, I did. I was good at trying to hide the pain I felt when I thought that my sister could very well be dead. Someone could have murdered her, she could have hurt herself, and every night I fell asleep knowing that. Every day, I’d wake up waiting for the endless phone calls of her telling us what’s wrong. Although it was tiring, it was good to hear her voice, just knowing she was still alive kept me going.

Life went on like this, for a long time. It was a horrible cycle for three years, even though the three years, felt like a million. But now, the torture is gone, the pain is gone, the not-knowing-if-my-sister-was-alive-hurt was gone. I don’t wake up anymore wondering if she is alive anymore, because I know she is. I know that where she is, she is safe. She is in jail now, and that’s the very best place for her to be. Every week we see my sister become someone we remember and it’s such a fantastic feeling to have my sister back.

Every second, minute, hour, day, week, month and year that life was a torture, for three years, was a year a learning that I never want to be that way. In this situation, I have learned about love, hate, sadness, suicide, and drugs. But mostly, I have learned that I will never turn into that person. I never want to be someone that my family and friends cannot recognize. I’m going to be me and the very best me, that I can be.