Speak Up

My brother and I are close. We hang out almost every day. When I get off work and on the weekends we go to his Dad's house to watch South Park and smoke cigarettes. I remember when I first got my job, I had little to no bills to pay besides for my phone, so with all the extra money I decided what the hell, I'm going to buy some pot. A little turned into a lot very quickly and my brother and I were smoking an ounce a week minimum. I eventually got laced, it was bound to happen at one point or another and the sad thing was, I though it would be okay to lace my stoner brother too. We progressed into our new found drug world starting with narcotics and psychadelics then eventually it grew to meth. My brother wasn't even mad I laced him, we were both depressed and had given up on life. I remember in particular I had just smoked a bowl and was curled up on the floor crying because I had no idea who I was or where I was. My brother held me and told me it was going to be okay. One day the inevitable happened and my mom found my pipe. Without warning I was sent to rehab and eight months later I'm still going. I've been clean for a couple months but I know it's not going to last because my brother and I are planning on moving in together and while I got busted, he did not; and right now he's on a fast track to hell...