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I was fourteen the first time I tried meth. It was on New Year’s Eve, and a man who was living with a family member of mine had decided he wanted to entrust his biggest secret to me -- that he was using meth. I don't know why he decided to tell me, but he did. Later that day, he expressed to me that he was afraid I would tell someone his secret, so he insisted that I use it as well. He stood by the door and wouldn't let me out until I took a hit. The sensation was GLORIOUS, and throughout the day, I kept going back for more. Eventually, we were making out on his bed. I'm not sure how it happened, or why, but I completely regret that decision. He was seventeen years older than me. I'd done so much meth that day, that I was up for three days straight, and I wasn't hungry at all. When the effects started to wear off, I got really sick. My throat was hurting so badly that I still couldn't eat anything, I started burning up, and I actually thought I was dying. I swore to never do meth again, but a few months later I was invited by a different friend to try it again. This person was much younger than the other, only four years older than me. He was so nice, and showed me the right way to smoke meth. He even made sure that I didn't take more than I could handle, and this time I didn't feel a crash at all. He was one of my best friends, and I was friends with all of his brothers as well. I used to spend entire weekends at their house just playing video games and watching movies, but then I realized that every time my friend asked if I wanted to tweak, I wouldn't refuse. I realized that I had to stop soon, so I didn't go back. I stayed away from meth for almost a year, but I recently went back, and I still couldn't refuse. I just hope that one day, if I’m ever put in a place where the option is there again, I can have the strength to stay strong and say no.

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