Letter to Bro...life or death?

LAST ONE, I PROMISE, AND THEN BACK TO THE REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGER.

Bro,

I had the worst dream the other night. I woke up in a panicked fear thinking that something had happened to you. That feeling stayed with me all day until I was finally able to speak with Mom. She said you were fine but that earlier in the week you had to go to the ER because of dehydration. Even after I spoke with you on the phone, I felt something was still wrong.

And I was right, wasn't I. You didn't want to tell me that you relapsed again.

We were close. As close as siblings could ever be. Hell, we were closer than most twins. But that all changed.
I'm not sure if it changed when you started drugs or when I started dating "him" or even when I came "out." All I know is that things haven't been the same between us in a long while.

There was hope, after you got over the anger of me being gay, and we actually started getting back to good with each other. But you were so deep in your addiction that I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't stand by while you took that deadly journey that I escaped from. I confronted you, argued, fought, and at one point...threatened you with a golf club. You had no idea who you were, so fucking high, and no idea who you were fighting. Although you were bigger than me, I never backed down...I swung back and brought you down. And when you cried, I thought you had finally seen what you were doing to yourself, to your three little girls, to your wife, and to your family.

God, I fought so fucking hard for you. I walked you through the withdrawals, holding your hand and feeling your pain. And you had me fooled for a while. I think you had us all fooled.

But that addiction came back with a vengeance. It killed me every time I would wake to the phone ringing at 3am with you on the other end pulling the trigger on that gun. I flinched with every click. I flinched with every deep breath I'd hear. In the background, I would hear Trish crying and pleading with you and I was so afraid those girls were up, watching their daddy hold that damn gun to his head.

Mom wouldn't let me Baker Act you. That so pissed me off. Your wife and kids did not need to see that shit. Do you know the damage you have done to those kids? I nearly fell apart the day your oldest, Jade, told me how she found daddy sleeping in the bathroom, bleeding with a needle stuck in him. I was tempted to kill you myself. And GOD! What if one of your daughters found one of those fucking needles and tried to do what daddy was doing!? Fucking insane!

I'm the one that convinced Trish to leave you. I had to, for my nieces sakes. Do you know how many times Trish (and Mom too) called me up crying, begging for me to do something? How many times I chased you down for her? And all those times, I was sure I would find you dead. I think I've been preparing for your death since the first time you relapsed. God, that hurts!

It hurts because you were my little bro. You were my closest, best friend. You were the only guy I had ever trusted. You were everything I lived for, for such a long time. You were the one I tried to set examples for. I pushed to succeed for YOU. How many twenty year olds own their own businesses and houses? I had to show you that anything was possible. I had to show you that there was so much more to our lives than our fucked up childhood. Because you were my little bro and you meant everything to me.

Then I got that call. The call I had been dreading but preparing for. The call that said you had really tried to die. The call that I was sure was going to say that you were dead. But you weren't, thank God.

And I cried for you...every night.

And they offered you the best help and the best chance for you to recover. I urged you to take it. I begged you to take it. But you didn't. You assured me that you were strong enough but I knew better. You surprised me by making it five months. But this happy ending came to a crashing halt when I got the phone call that you were in jail.

Your birthday was yesterday. I celebrated by seeing your mug shot online. How fucking high were you? Has the drugs worn off yet so that you realize where you are?

Mom says its Dad's fault. Dad says its Mom's fault. I say its YOUR fault.

I've been there for you. We all have. I've spent tens of thousands of dollars trying to help you. I've sacrificed and put it all on the line for you. I've taken the blame. I've cleaned up your messes. I've cried with your children. I've held them while they spilled their worries on me. They shouldn't have to worry about you. They are fucking KIDS!

I can't do this anymore. I can't watch you kill yourself any longer. I hope you stay in jail. I hope that they can give you the help that none of your family could. I don't want you to die, bro. I love you too much. And your girls need a dad. They need you. Its time for you to fix yourself because, really, I think you are just an injection away from death.

Please tell me that you really don't want to die?

My Fight

Things are always different for an outsider. One that has no idea what you are going through.

Back Then...
I was never really a book reader. Sure, I read the required books in high school. I didn't become a cult fan of the books like "The Catcher in the Rye" or care too much for "To Kill a Mockingbird." Only one book stood out for me. A book I had to read in Psychology class. "Go Ask Alice." Mostly because I read it during my recovering from addiction years. Since no one really knew what I was going through, that book helped me remember why I was going through it. I wanted to live.

ad·dic·tion
\ə-ˈdik-shən, a-\
noun
1: the quality or state of being addicted
2: compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance (as heroin, nicotine, or alcohol) characterized by tolerance and by well-defined physiological symptoms upon withdrawal ; broadly : persistent compulsive use of a substance known by the user to be harmful


with·draw·al \-ˈdrȯ(-ə)l\
1 a: the act of taking back or away something that has been granted or possessed b: removal from a place of deposit or investment c (1): the discontinuance of administration or use of a drug (2): the syndrome of often painful physical and psychological symptoms that follows discontinuance of an addicting drug

Addiction is like a lover that sneaks into your life, takes over your life, and then refuses to leave. Yes, like a lover.
Because in those moments...when you are so high, feeling ten feet tall and bullet proof with no pain and no worries...you believe that pill you took or whatever your drug of choice was, you believe that it loves you.
And you love it because it took away that memory, that pain, that hurt, that worry, that fist, those words...everything. You are blissfully numb and you think that you are in the middle of the worlds greatest love affair.

My addiction refused to leave without a knock down, drag out fight. I was determined to win. Like I said, I wanted to LIVE. And if a person ever tells you that withdrawals are easy, they are lying and have no idea what addiction really is.

Withdrawal...good God. Pain, so much pain. I swore my marrow hurt. Sweat. Freezing. Shaking. Nausea. Hallucinations. Paranioia.
Again, I told my mom I had the flu. I'm sure if she wasn't working so much, she would have figured it out. During the day, while she was at work, I would sit in the corner of my room, sweating to death but freezing to the core. I'd pull the fibers from the carpet in my clinched fists as I'd bite my lip so hard it would bleed. So many times I was sure I was going to die. I heard voices and swore they were angels coming to take me away.

It was the worst physical and mental experience of my life. I didn't see day light for at least two weeks. But finally, things subsided enough for me to feel confident I could go outside without freaking out. I still stayed away from my friends, though. Slowly, I began to realize that they weren't worthy of being called friends anyway. They would be the first to drag me back down.

Yeah, I never really read much, but that book...it could have, would have, and almost was...me.

Addiction Cemetery

This post goes out to Starr and Peace and all the girls over at CrazyLesbianCircus that have been asking for more. I love you girls and miss you like mad.

And I'd like to publicly thank Starr for wanting to write the book about this stuff. She says my life is an inspiration and the story needs to be told. I think the same about her life...but she has refused to let me write about it.

On to the next chapter...Back Then.

I was in and out of consciousness for I don't know how long. At one point, I do remember moving the dresser from in front of the door. But I forgot to unlock it. I prayed as I sat in the corner trying to stay awake that my mom would come home and check on me and she would call the ambulance.

That trip to the hospital never happened. So, I died. Yes, I really died. If I told you the story of how I know this, you would probably think I was completely insane. But I really did die.

I was given a choice. Clean up or never go back. Obviously I chose to clean up because I'm here now. I can give you a million reasons for why I decided to live but the one that matters the most was my mom. I knew she wouldn't have been able to handle it. I couldn't do that to her.

When I finally came to and realized what had happened wasn't really a dream, I kind of freaked. I went to the kitchen and grabbed some trash bags. I went through every thing I owned and threw away anything and everything that reminded me of drugs. Pipes, bongs, music, my art, clothes. Everything. If I was going to do it, if I was going to keep that promise and stay clean, I couldn't have any reminders or triggers.

After I stuffed it all in the trash bin outside, I went back in my room. In my dresser drawer, below the Rolling Stone magazine was my stash. I think I sat there and stared at that drawer for at least an hour. And when I finally pulled it from that drawer, I held that little bag in my hand and begged for the strength to get rid of it. I dumped it on my bed and sorted through it one last time. In the cellophane from a pack of smokes were a few hits of acid. Album covers. In a small baggie, a few lines of coke. Two rolled joints. And in the last of the baggies, a nice assortment of my favorite pills.

I shoved it all back in the brown bag and grabbed some clothes. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat down in front of that toilet and shook. I swear it felt like I had the devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Sweat poured off me like someone was pouring water over my head and my heart felt like it had relocated to my throat.

I emptied the contents of that brown bag on the floor. I grabbed the coke first because I never really cared for the stuff that much anyway. I thought it would be the easiest to flush. The shaking got worse the closer I got to that addiction cemetery. And as my hand hovered above the grave, my breathing became panicked. I have to do this. I need to do this. I kept repeating those sentences over and over. I closed my eyes and thought it all out again. My pep talk wasn't working because I wasn't saying the right thing. It wasn't about having or needing to do anything. It was about wanting to do it. This IS what I WANT. I WANT to be CLEAN. I opened that baggie and poured everything out. I unrolled those joints and dropped it all in. I opened the pills I could and crushed the others and dropped them in. The last to go was the acid. But it did go.

I'm not sure if my mom wondered what the hell I was doing flushing the toilet so many times but she never asked. I just had to make sure it was all gone. When I was done burying my addiction, I stripped to hop in the shower.

If I needed any other reason to quit drugs, I found it all over my body in the form of bruises and cuts and scratches from the attack I had to fight off. Anger finally washed away my panic and fear of having to start my life from scratch, so to speak. And as I washed away the bloody remnants of what their hands had done to me, I plotted my revenge.

Hell hath no fury...

Another mistake

My lack of updates is blamed on my drowning in the book I'm writing. I'm about 70 pages in and it has been consuming every other free minute I have. J gets the rest of my free minutes.

So here we go...Back Then...

It sucks to admit to some of the stupid decisions I have made over the years, but, like I said before, I have no regrets. I lived and learned and that's what living is all about.

I was determined to clean up. And I did pretty good for the first week or two. I had managed to convince everyone that I was too busy to hang out on the weekends and such. It was working but, I admit, it was damn hard. Sometimes you don't realize how bad you are addicted until you try to quit.

Mom helped, even though she had no idea what she was helping with. She thought I was getting the flu or something. And she made sure to keep the vultures away...mostly because I asked her to. When she asked why I didn't want to see them, I just told her that they were starting to annoy me and I needed some space. She respected that and never asked again.

Frank moved away and a new guy moved in. DK was closer to us in age and the few times I talked to him, he seemed pretty cool. He even helped me fix my moms car one morning so she could get to work. (I'm a closet mechanic) Somehow, I confided in him that I was quitting drugs. I'm not sure how we got on the conversation but I'm guessing he was offering and I refused. He seemed cool with that and never pushed again until...

It was the weekend and mom was out on a date. My little brother was staying down at my grandmothers. I had the house to myself and was going stir crazy with urges that were threatening to take me down. I grabbed my guitar and sat out front on the planter, practicing scales and such. Out of all the people I didn't want or need to see, fucking Chris rode by on his motorcycle. When he noticed that I saw him, he did a quick u-turn and pulled up in my driveway.

He quickly tried to explain himself. "I was just in the neighborhood and I saw you sitting here. I couldn't just keep going."

I knew better and I started to wonder if he had been stalking me since he learned where I was living or what. It creeped me out and I shivered with a weird sense of fear. But I couldn't let him know that.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" he asked and started to move closer.
I put up my hand to stop him. "No. I've been sick."

My conversation with Chris turned into a yelling match and we caught the attention of DK. I had seen him walk out of his house with a friend and they had been watching Chris and I for a while. After I yelled for Chris to leave for the fifth time, DK walked over and put his arm around me.

"Hey, babe. Do we have a problem here?" DK asked, giving Chris a look that would kill.
"No problem. Chris was just leaving." I put my arm around DK's waist to make things look more believable.

Chris finally got the point and left.

"Who was that?" DK asked, taking a seat on the planter beside me.
Who was Chris? The guy that tried to drug me and rape me would have been the best description but I didn't want to say that to DK. "Someone I knew from my old neighborhood is all. Thanks for your help."
"Anytime. That's what friends are for," he shrugged. "You look wound up. How 'bout you come over and we get high."
"No thanks, I quit remember."
He stood and reached out for my hand. "Its just weed. Not addictive and just an herb, B. It won't fuck up your process."

I was stressed and upset from seeing Chris. I was having a hard time fighting the urges. I can give you every excuse there is in the book for why I finally agreed, but none of them are good enough. It was a stupid decision. But we all make mistakes, right?

I put my guitar back in the house and walked across the street to DK's house. I had assumed his friend had left but when I walked in his house, his friend was sitting at the table finishing rolling up the joint. I took a seat on the couch and zoned out on the TV while I mentally tortured myself with questions. Its just weed. It can't hurt me, can it? Should I do this? I've been doing so good. Will this fuck up everything I've been working for? I should have listened to myself when I had concluded that it was a bad idea and I should just leave. But it was already lit and was in my hand. I shrugged and thought, what the hell.

About the fourth time I had that joint in my fingers, I started to feel real weird. My heart was going a mile a minute and I swore I could hear my blood flowing through my veins. The sound was so loud, I could barely hear anything else. I passed the joint and that's when I noticed that DK and his friend weren't really smoking it. This was bad. Real bad.

I stood. I knew I had to get out of there before whatever bad thing they had planned started happening. "DK, I think I've had enough. I gotta go home. Mom's gonna be there soon and I'm supposed to be home sick."
"Nah. Stay, B. Don't worry, we'll get you home." DK shared an evil grin with his friend that made me feel sick to my stomach...or was that the drug.
"Really, DK. I'm not feeling well. My knee has been hurting me. I gotta go." I took a step toward the door and DK stepped in front of me.
His hands were sliding down my back and stopped on my ass. He was holding me to him tight. "I have the perfect thing for your knee. Why don't you take a bath? The warm water will do wonders for your pain."
He licked up the side of my neck and tried to kiss me.

Whatever they put in that joint was kicking in at full force. I was getting so disoriented and I'm sure if the front door wasn't right in front of me, I probably wouldn't have been able to find it. I knew I had to make my move to get out and I had to do it fast.

DK's friend walked up behind me and slid his hands up my shirt. "Yeah, baby. A bath will fix you right up." I felt his hands at the front of my jeans as he bit my earlobe.

I leaned my head forward and threw it back, hitting the guy in the face somewhere. He dropped his hands and stepped away, cursing and making threats. I took another step toward the door and DK grabbed me, pulling my hair, exposing my neck as he bit down.

"I promise I will make you feel good," DK whispered, loosening his grip just enough.

I was sure my heart was about to explode and, any minute, I was going to be so far out of it that they were going to get what they wanted. I raised my knee, making full contact with DK's crotch. He went back against the wall and I moved as fast as I could toward that damn door. I had to reach it. I had to get out of it and back to my house. I had to.

My hand was on the doorknob when DK's friend grabbed my arm and twisted me around to face him. I was stuck between him and the door. "Let us help you feel better." He kissed me hard, knocking my head against the door.

I saw little stars and shit but I couldn't let it stop me. I kneed him just as hard as I kneed DK and he went down to his knees. I twisted the door knob but the door wouldn't open. It was locked and I couldn't think clear enough to figure out how to unlock it.

DK's friend made it to his feet, pushing me face first into the door. His hands were ripping at my jeans, scratching my skin. I kept trying to unlock that fucking door. I had to keep trying. I got it!

DK's friend turned me around to face him. He shoved his hand down the front of my jeans. "I'm gonna fuck you until you bleed," he growled.

He had both his legs between mine, so I couldn't knee him again. So I reached for his balls, grabbed them, and squeezed until he screamed like a woman. He let me go and DK was heading our way. I flung the door open, slamming it on DK and ran as fast as I could. My pants were falling down, my shirt was ripped, but I kept running until I got in the door at my house.

Reality was fading so fast. Nothing was easy. I ran to all the doors and tried to make sure they were all locked. I got to my bedroom, locked the door, and pushed my nightstand in front of it. I checked my window, then collapsed on my bed.

I was sure that I was dying but I was so afraid to try to make it to the phone. They knew I was home alone. There was no way I could fight them anymore. I watched my chest as my heart attempted to beat out of it. The sounds of gushing, thick liquid filled my head. I could no longer feel my body. And I was out.

Time for Change

Time to get back in the swing of things. So that means its time to get back to back then...

Yeah. The vultures were circling. And I was so fucked up. I was pretty sure at this point that it wasn't just acid I was on. And, for the life of me, I couldn't remember who handed me the drink. All bets were on LG.

"How you feeling?" LG asked as she sat down beside me.
I laughed a hollow, emotionless laugh. "My guess is that you know exactly how I'm feeling." I glanced over at her as RM sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm fucked up."

She grinned and stared at me like she was about to take out a knife and slice me to bits. Sadly, I don't think I would've been able to put up a fight.

Rich took a seat on the other side of me and tried to touch my hand. I quickly pulled it away, or at least it felt like I quickly pulled it away. The way my head was spinning, it probably took me ten minutes to even think about moving it. I shot him a look of pure hate. And that's the last thing I remember.

I woke up the next morning with the sun beaming in my eyes. The light felt like little needles being jabbed into them. I was in the front passenger seat of my mom's car with my feet hanging out the window and there was an arm around my shoulder. I covered my eyes with my hand and pushed at the weight that was across my stomach.

Somehow, I fell asleep next to Rich. LG's legs were across my lap and her head was on RM's lap. I had a very bad feeling in my gut and quickly exited the car to puke that feeling out. I thought that was my final straw with drugs and drinking. I just couldn't do it anymore.

I left the sleeping dogs in the car and went inside to take a shower. When I looked in the mirror, I had to do a triple take. Staring back at me was a trail of bite marks that went from below my left ear, down my neck, and to the top of my left breast. I looked a little closer and saw that my lip was bruised and bit too. Definitely the last straw.

I promised myself that it was the last time I would ever get so stupidly high. That I would never allow myself to not know what was going on around me.

I inspected the rest of my body and was relived to realize that the bites were the extent of my damage. That kissing was as far as it went. I think I might have killed someone if they had forced me to have sex. And yes, I would have known if I had had sex.

By the time I had finished my shower, my mom had left for work. And the dogs I had left in her car had gone too. I fixed a bowl of cereal and picked up the phone. I needed to talk to someone, badly.

"Uncle Shane?" I asked after I heard hello.
"Hey B! We were just talking about you last night. How is it going over there in the north east side of the county?"

It felt so good to hear his voice. Even though he was only a year older than me, he always seemed so much wiser than I ever felt.

"Its going. Any word on MM?" I had to ask.
"Nah, nothing. Rumor has it...she is living with a family member somewhere close. She hasn't been seen since the court hearings." I laughed when I heard him slurp his milk.
"Let me guess...Apple Jacks, huh." I took a bite of my own.
"Yep. You too?" he asked.
"You know it. So, you guys were talking about me. Anything good?"

He explained that they had rebuilt the quarter pipe and made it much wider and how Brad had thought I would be the best at shredding it. He gave me a list of people that all wanted him to say hi to me and that they missed me. I told him to say the same thing back to them all.

"I know you didn't call for the 'hello list.' You sound down." Shane was always good at reading me.

I explained what I could remember of the night before and then reluctantly told him about the marks left on my body. I could tell he was angry but I could also tell that he was trying to hide it.

"Who the fu...who did it?" he stuttered.
"This is the worst part, Shane. I really don't know. I can't remember a thing. But I do know that I woke up with Rich beside me. Guessing, I would say it was him." I felt awful. I felt worthless. I was more than ashamed.

I should have known better than to stay outside when I was starting to feel so messed up. I should have forced myself inside my house and locked all the doors. I knew that I couldn't trust any of them. And I explained it that exact way to Shane.

"Don't blame yourself. Well, do but don't. You never had that kind of problem when you lived out here. We all looked out for you. Especially MM." I heard him slam something down, hard, against the table. "God! I wish I could get out there somehow. What are you gonna do?"

When he asked, I went through a million scenarios in my mind. None of them seemed doable, but I had to try.

"I think its about time I quit the drugs and drinking and find myself a new group of friends. Maybe, with a little luck, it won't be as hard as it sounds."

I knew the new friends thing would be easy, but finding friends that were clean was going to be a pain in the ass. For the first time in my life, I couldn't wait for school to start. Maybe I'd turn into a jock or something. Join softball or soccer. I figured those kids were the closest I would ever get to finding the "good" kids.

"That's a big change, B. Going from being high on a nightly basis to being super clean. Its gonna be rough." He took a deep breath and let it out slow. "If anyone can do it, though, it would be you."

That was the vote of confidence I needed. He thought I could do it. I felt that I could do it. And the thought that MM would probably stand behind me was about all I needed. For a split second, I thought that maybe I should ask my mom for help. But I quickly thought better of it. As far as I knew, she had no idea of what I was really into and I didn't see any reason to bring her in now.

It was a time for change and I was gonna change it all.

Getting back to good

The rest of the "back then" story makes me feel like such a hypocrite. Things started happening so fast that I didn't know which way was the right way and I kind of got lost (for many years). But like it or not, this is Life of Times and the purpose was to tell the story on how I got to where I am now. Back to the story...

I was stuck on the "he says you are his" words for hours. It was driving me up the wall. I didn't like being thought of as a possession, it made me feel...wrong. I steered clear of RM and Rich the entire night. I had even planned on staying drug-free that night but someone slipped me something in my drink. I remember bits and pieces of conversations but the thing that sticks out most from that night was that LG never left RM and Rich's side. It was like she was involved in some kind of conspiracy with them to make me his "property." I wasn't liking that one bit.

Frank, my neighbor from across the street, sat beside me in the driveway. I knew he could tell that something was bothering me. "What's got you lumpy? Bad trip?"

I liked Frank as a friend. He was a tough guy out of New York but he didn't act that way. He was more laid back and kind of charming that way. He had asked me out once but I quickly declined. He was older. Ten years older and that just seemed weird. Funny, after I kindly declined, he asked my mom out. She was ten years older than him. I think they actually went out a few times, too. Hell, most of my guy friends wanted a date with my mom and Frank was the only guy to ever succeed. My mom wasn't a slut and she did have an age standard.

"Nah. The trip is fine but," I looked around to see who was standing near us, "if I find out who gave it to me, I'm gonna beat their ass."

He laughed and slapped my shoulder. "Yeah right! You're telling me you didn't want to get high tonight?"

I shook my head and looked around us again. "To tell the truth, Frank, I really don't want to do this shit anymore. Any of it. No more coke, weed, sid, or WC's. I want my head to be clear."

I knew he was searching my face and eyes to see if what I had said was the truth. And while he contemplated my words, I contemplated myself. I stretched my legs out in front on me and inspected my Airwalks. I pulled at the frayed strings that sprouted from the holes at the knees of my blue jeans. And then my shirt. The T-shirt that MM had given me. Blue and white tie-dyed Iron Maiden shirt with a brightly sketched picture of Eddie on the front. His form came to life on my chest as I breathed in slowly. I had to look away.

So, I closed my eyes and pulled my knees to my chest. I grabbed the neck of the shirt and brought it to my face. If I breathed deep enough, I could still smell MM. I knew she would respect my decision to quit drugs. She would stand behind me and even quit with me. But when I opened my eyes and looked out over my new friends, I knew that none of them were like her. None of them even came close. I was pretty sure that none of them respected me either. But the feeling was mutual.

Frank cleared his throat to get my attention. "Where were you?"
He must have been talking to me and I didn't hear a thing. I could have just blamed it on the drug. "I was...with an old friend," I smiled. Thinking of her always made me smile...and still does.
"Well, what I was saying is that, if that's the way you feel, you should just quit. I'll help you keep these guys away from here." He slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "I'll get them the fuck out of here right now if you want."

I really wanted him to get rid of them but everyone was pretty wasted. It was nights like these that they would all pass out in my front yard. Seriously. My mom would have to wake us up to get us off her car sometimes. "Nah, not tonight. But thanks, Frank." I glanced over at him wondering if he really understood how serious I was.

"You say the word and I'm there," he grinned. "You know, KK is coming back from California next week. He wants to start that band. Are you in?"

I rested my chin on my knees. "I don't know. If I really want out of all this shit, I'm gonna have to stay away from the temptation." I glanced over at LG, RM, and Rich who were huddled together by RM's car. "And you know KK. He's carries more goodies around with him than RM over there could even get his hands on."

Frank laughed a deep, loud laugh that attracted a lot of attention. "You are so right." He got to his feet. "Well, I'm here if you ever need any help." He winked as he walked over to the crowd that was singing a horrible version of Slayer's "South Of Heaven" and he joined in.

In a matter of seconds, LG, RM, and Rich were circling me like vultures and I was their next meal.