Just Say No

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Just say no…ha! I can so no to drugs, but what about my brother? I don’t even know who he is anymore. He looks like my brother on the outside…well, sorta. He let his hair grow longer and sometimes you can’t see his face. It’s like he’s hiding from something. He doesn’t want to look you in the eye, but when he does…sometimes it’s like he’s not even there, like he doesn’t see you. That’s when he’s really strung out. That’s when they take him away for a while. He’s gone to that place a couple of times…rehab, they call it. Rehab, as in rehabilitation, as in get well and go home. Yeah, right!

    He comes home all right, and for a while it’s like it used to be when we were younger. We play basketball and he takes me places. We have dinner at night and watch T.V. It’s like we’re all trying so hard just to be normal, like maybe if we keep up the act long enough we won’t have to act anymore. But then he starts coming home late again. The last time it happened, Mom couldn’t wake him up. They took him to the hospital and pumped his stomach.
He takes speed to get high and then he takes something else to get back down again. He smokes dope, too. I’ve smelled it on him when he comes in at night. I don’t know what else he does. They don’t tell me much. I just get the usual lecture about not doing drugs—“look what it’s done to your brother; look what it’s done to our family.â€

 

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