My mistakes are expensive.
While I've been telling you all this, it might sound like I'm complaining.
Like it's hard for me.
And maybe it is… I don't know.
But when I really think about it—
I chose all of this.
So don't feel sorry for me.
Because I don't feel sorry for myself.
Honestly… I don't deserve happiness.
Or anything good.
I betrayed everyone.
But most of all, I betrayed myself.
I'm still lying.
At home, I say college is going well.
That I study.
That everything is under control.
But the truth?
I'm failing.
I'm lost.
And all of this is still going on.
But somehow… it feels easier when I write.
When I let it all out.
I kept seeing people.
Married men.
Single ones.
"Normal" ones.
Crazy ones.
Addicts.
All kinds.
And looking back now…
I'm lucky I at least protected myself.
That I didn't catch something.
Because I was really taking risks.
But back then… I didn't think like that.
There were also "adventures."
I won't lie—
that fear in the moment felt good.
Adrenaline.
Like I was alive.
But when it's over…
I'm alone.
And then the real feeling comes.
Heavy.
Disgusting.
Regret.
One of those encounters… I'll never forget.
Adrian.
An addict.
At first, everything seemed normal.
He asked me what I like.
If I'm discreet.
All standard.
Then he asked me:
"Do you use coke?"
I said:
No.
I don't want that.
Not yet.
He said it's okay.
That we won't.
And I believed him.
When he came over…
it started like always.
Kissing.
Touching.
The same routine.
And then he just stood up.
Took out cocaine.
He said he needed it.
That it would "lift him up."
That it would help him.
That's when I froze.
I told him:
No.
I don't want that.
If you want to do that—you need to leave.
He looked at me and laughed.
Called me a peasant.
Said everyone uses it.
But I was scared.
Really scared.
Where would I even get that?
Who would pay for it?
What if I get dragged into that too?
No.
I can't do that.
I can't disappoint my family even more.
Somehow, I convinced him.
Told him I had to wake up early.
That I needed sleep.
He accepted it.
And left.
But me…
I didn't sleep that night.
I was shaking.
Disgusted with myself.
I kept thinking he might come back.
That he might blackmail me.
He even asked me for money.
And me…
I have nothing.
A student.
A failure.
And then I thought—
he's an addict.
A failure.
So…
we're the same.
That night, I made another decision.
That it's over.
That I'll stop.
That this is a sign.
A warning.
That I need to leave that life behind.
But like everything before…
it didn't last.
Maybe a week.
After that…
someone else came next.
Even worse.
A professor from my college.
But that…
that's a story for another time. 💔
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