It takes most people about 5-10 years to fuck up their lives this badly, but I've managed to do it in about 3. How special am I? Let's see, at 21 years old, I hadn't even begun college or any sort of career yet and was still living at home, but I was relatively normal. I mean, lots of people take their time with college and shit, right? On the plus side, I still had quite a bit of potential at the time. Around this time, a few things started to come together about my mental stability (or lack thereof). I had accepted the fact that I had a personality disorder in addition to depression and anxiety and I was starting to take therapy seriously and make the best out of the situation since that was what was holding me back from finding a decent (less chaotic) romantic relationship and taking my career/future seriously. So, I mean, I had my issues, but things could have been a lot worse. And then, after 21, things went severely downhill from there. 1. The therapy didn't do jack shit for me as I continued to go from 2009-2011 and a little bit into 2012. 2. I got into a new romantic relationship with a heroin addict (not actively using though, which I apparently thought mattered at the time) just as I was about to turn 22. 3. I started drinking, smoking pot, and eventually popping pills by 22 simply because I had those things around me while I was with my heroin addicted then-boyfriend and was still depressed most of the time after the excitement of getting into a new romantic relationship died down. 4. My inactively using heroin-addicted boyfriend became active once again, and since I was already popping percocets and dilaudid, I decided "Sure, why the hell not. Perhaps, THIS could fix my problems, and if not I can just stop." (Yeah, okay.) 5. I used heroin on and off until a few months after I turned 23, and then decided I wanted to stop, but he kept using. 6. After my staying clean for 5 months, my then-boyfriend and I broke up due to his continued heroin use and lies. I swore I would never get into a relationship with another addict ever again. 8. Two months later, I started to crave heroin again and started going to NA meetings, but still relapsed on 3 different occasions and then met another heroin addict and got into a relationship with him. 9. We used together on and off for 6 months (which was actually mostly my fault...HE wanted to stay clean) and then got married despite the fact. 10. I moved out of my parents' house and into his parents' house when my family found out I was a junkie and several grand was missing from their bank account...still no job, diploma, or income of any kind besides food stamps and medical insurance. 11. My husband and I are still currently living there, both taking Suboxone (but both clean from heroin and other hard drugs for 7 months now), constantly fighting and arguing, have barely any income besides a few side jobs he does and the money we make off of selling 2/3 of my Suboxone script. And...wait for it...here's the icing on the cake...my husband just found out a few days ago that he has both Hep C and HIV...Corrrection: HAS had it since 2010. Which means there's about a 99.9% chance that I have both things too. So, let's see, by 24, I've managed to contract HIV and Hep C. Continued to be damn near broke, even more so than before. Equally as, if not more, depressed. Went from rocky romantic relationships to a rocky marriage. Became enveloped in addiction and still crave getting high. Resort to doing illegal shit to get by. I wrote this post to try to figure out where the hell it all went so wrong, but now that I look back on it, it seems my life went wrong a long time ago. It's like this path was fucking destined for me after my mental illnesses got bad enough to affect my entire life. Well, on the plus side, I've been through so freaking much that the whole Hep C/HIV news didn't even come as a devastating shock. Actually, for the most part, I'm worried about my husband more than myself because he's already had it for 3 years and is just now starting to get treatment. But you know what, despite us fighting a lot, I do love him more than anything and I don't regret anything. If I had known this in the beginning, I still would have been with him either way. I'm not scared of possibly dying, either. What I am scared of is one of us dying before the other as well as being immensely bored the rest of my life. But if we both die together, be it even no more than 5-10 years into the future, I'd be okay with that. I'm not all that excited about life anyway, never have been.