SilverCaladan
a WaNDeRiNG LiZaRD
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2003
- Messages
- 630
Hey guys! This is a Gundam Wing/Sailor Moon crossover fanfic with the pairing Heero/Minako. Its really sad, so I wouldn't read it unless... well whatever. lol.
The Problems with Addictions
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I knew he was a pothead and a drunk. He hadn’t always been that way... either that or I was fooling myself. It wasn’t the first time that my heart had blinded my head to the truth. But I’m sure you hear that over and over again from every love-sick woman who lectures you on the horror of drugs. I’m not here to lay all the blame on him. I’m not here to accept all the blame on my own soul. I’m here to tell you my story. Feel free to draw your own conclusions, but I ask that you listen and reflect on everything I say.
College was one of the best experiences of my life. I was finally free to focus on what I wanted to do and not what the school informed me was the national standard. School never came easily for me; I was always one to neglect my homework in favor of any sort of socializing. When the entire school is your friend, you need a lot of time to make everyone feel loved. College was freedom from these restrictions; I had all the time in the world to socialize, was learning how to act like I had always wanted to, and dated like crazy. My career choice brought about a lot of shallow, handsome men looking for a trophy girlfriend. It was fun at first, being shown off to everyone on the arms of the best new actors/musicians/writers/painters. Eventually my craving for attention lessened, and having to balance my need for love with always following the restrictions of society about what is ‘good’ became tiresome.
Often these shallow boyfriends drove me crazy with their refusal to understand or even listen to the deeper emotions running through my mind. Luckily I had chosen a college with its own town and wonderful shopping as well as fabulous restaurants within walking distance. I had run to a secluded Japanese restaurant after the last of these breakups to cry. Its patio gives the appearance of a wooded area, and always reminded me of home. It’s a little familiarity in the midst of a strange country and culture. There I sat, crying softly and picking at the lunch I had ordered, when this man tapped me on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything, and his face was impassive, but in his hand he held a drawing tablet. On it was one of the most accurate sketches I have ever seen of myself sobbing against the wonderfully detailed background. It made me catch my breath, all that emotion in a few simple lines.
I hadn’t even had a good glance at his face, and yet I could already feel myself falling in love. “That’s... that’s so beautiful.†I sniffled at him and wiped my eyes.
He slipped into the seat next to mine and smiled somewhat floppily at me. His words were a little slurred, and now that I look back on it he must have been drunk, or very close to it. “It would have been better if you were smiling.†But all I could see at that moment was the mysterious shadow in his cobalt blue eyes. We talked a little more, and we agreed to meet back here the next day so that he could draw me again... not sobbing this time.
Heero was an odd drunk. Alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way it did everyone else. His movements didn’t get any clumsier, his brain didn’t get any slower; instead he became much more open and friendly than he was normally. I’m also not sure but his art... well sometimes I think his best art was done when he was drunk. I continued meeting with him at different restaurants, and as we got to know each other more the less he continued to draw me. I thought this open person was actually Heero and was deeply disturbed when he would grunt at me instead of speaking or act reclusive. So, in a way, I guess it’s not really my fault I didn’t realize Heero was drunk almost every time I saw him. He hid the odor of alcohol with gum and aftershave, and I didn’t know the signs of a drunk anyway.
I learned about the drugs by complete accident. My roommate occasionally dealt weed, though she never smoked the stuff, so I knew what it looked like. I didn’t learn about the smell though until the first time I found my way to Heero’s off-campus apartment. I knocked on the door, and the only answer was a round of loud laughing. It scared me a little, so I turned the knob and pushed my way in. There, sprawled out on the couch, was Heero, laughing his head off at my entrance. That scared me even more than his occasionally unreachable personality did. I looked around, and oh wow the smell just hit me full force. I had to open his balcony doors and the window just to begin to get fresh air. And the haze, oh as soon as I saw the haze clearing I realized... he was high! Heero was high! It didn’t bother me that much, for everyone tried weed at least once in college. What really worried me was the fact that I found a whole stash of it open and lying out on his bed while opening windows. There was at least two pounds of the stuff in bags, just lying there. “Oh god... I’m dating a druggie.â€
I panicked right then. I was in love with this guy, and I didn’t really know anything about drugs. For all I knew right then, he could be choking to death on all the smoke in his lungs. So I rushed back out into the living room (Heero was sitting there staring dully at the TV screen), and called my roommate. She should know what to do. Tina came right over, and from her I picked up everything I would need to know and use for the next few months. Basically, how to deal with a high person: Keep an eye on them, to make sure they don’t do anything life-threatening like trying to fly out the window. It’s impossible to overdose on weed, so you essentially just have to watch them...closely. And watching a high person is a full time job.
My first experience with Heero high was not pleasant for me. He punched a hole through one of his windows because it had fallen shut and he couldn’t figure out where the latch was. Heero also tried to drink bleach because he thought it was vodka. It... was not fun.
After he came down, I made him promise that he would never do drugs again. I thought it was a good promise. He had seen me crying, and my crying always seemed to affect him more than yelling or violence of any kind. And he looked so serious, and apologized for being such a problem. I didn’t even bother to ask him why he had done them; I just assumed that there was no big problem and that it was just for fun.
..................................................
Heero’s gone now.......
He didn’t show up for a date one time.
I got worried.
Found him lying on the floor of his apartment, not breathing.
Paramedics said he died of a cocaine overdose.
I hadn’t even ******* suspected he was doing cocaine. I hadn’t known a lot of the **** he was doing in his life. Oh the wonders the autopsy revealed to me. The drug tests revealed traces of alcohol, weed, triple c, opium, cocaine, and morphine all in varying amounts.
This news sent me into complete shock, even more than finding him dead on the floor, if that’s even possible. Heero, my Heero, had done all of that ****?
He had been addicted to all of that ****? Indeed, the doctor assured me. You could always tell the signs of an addict, especially since she found evidence of longtime use in the different muscles of his brain.
That kills me. It really does. He told me, he ******* promised he wasn’t doing anything of the sort. I even asked him outright if he was doing crack or cocaine or something of the sort, anything harder than weed, and he denied it empathetically. He even promised me that he wouldn’t ever do any of that stuff and that he would watch out for being addicted by weed.
What kills me even more is that I trusted him....... I ******* believed him, and so I ignored all the little signs that said that he was high or drunk. I ignored the fact that he would forget what day it was, what time it was, even where he was. I ignored his fascination with the most unusual things, I ignored his always wearing a jacket, or even his regularly enormous headaches. I ******* trusted him to do as I asked him, because I thought he ******* loved me. I sure as hell loved him.
But this tortures me inside. If I had been suspicious, if I had watched him more closely, I could have gotten him help. My friends tell me that its not my fault; that I trusted him and so I had no reason to still be suspicious. Why did I believe that he could quit on his own anyways? They always preach to you in school that you have to get help for every little problem, but weed really doesn’t hurt anyone right? So I thought why would it be so horrible, just so long as he didn’t do it around me? What I forgot is that when he smoked weed, he invariably got exposed to other drugs as well... I never thought that he would actually do things like that.
The real reason I’m up here talking to you today is not to pour out my heart about this betrayal of my trust. Heero is dead, and I can’t do anything about it.
What you need to know is that no matter who the person is, watch them closely. Just because you think they wouldn’t do things like this doesn’t mean that they won’t. I don’t want any of you bright minds to be scarred by this experience. Death is not so much my point as a betrayal of love and trust hurts... like... hell. Even if your friend/sibling/parent/loved one of any kind doesn’t die, it still hurts. Drugs and alcohol damage lives irreparably.
I just... please, don’t do what Heero did to me. You might not believe your life is worthwhile, but others do, and...................
Oh God Heero, why did you lie? I loved you goddamit, I wouldn’t have left...........
The Problems with Addictions
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I knew he was a pothead and a drunk. He hadn’t always been that way... either that or I was fooling myself. It wasn’t the first time that my heart had blinded my head to the truth. But I’m sure you hear that over and over again from every love-sick woman who lectures you on the horror of drugs. I’m not here to lay all the blame on him. I’m not here to accept all the blame on my own soul. I’m here to tell you my story. Feel free to draw your own conclusions, but I ask that you listen and reflect on everything I say.
College was one of the best experiences of my life. I was finally free to focus on what I wanted to do and not what the school informed me was the national standard. School never came easily for me; I was always one to neglect my homework in favor of any sort of socializing. When the entire school is your friend, you need a lot of time to make everyone feel loved. College was freedom from these restrictions; I had all the time in the world to socialize, was learning how to act like I had always wanted to, and dated like crazy. My career choice brought about a lot of shallow, handsome men looking for a trophy girlfriend. It was fun at first, being shown off to everyone on the arms of the best new actors/musicians/writers/painters. Eventually my craving for attention lessened, and having to balance my need for love with always following the restrictions of society about what is ‘good’ became tiresome.
Often these shallow boyfriends drove me crazy with their refusal to understand or even listen to the deeper emotions running through my mind. Luckily I had chosen a college with its own town and wonderful shopping as well as fabulous restaurants within walking distance. I had run to a secluded Japanese restaurant after the last of these breakups to cry. Its patio gives the appearance of a wooded area, and always reminded me of home. It’s a little familiarity in the midst of a strange country and culture. There I sat, crying softly and picking at the lunch I had ordered, when this man tapped me on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything, and his face was impassive, but in his hand he held a drawing tablet. On it was one of the most accurate sketches I have ever seen of myself sobbing against the wonderfully detailed background. It made me catch my breath, all that emotion in a few simple lines.
I hadn’t even had a good glance at his face, and yet I could already feel myself falling in love. “That’s... that’s so beautiful.†I sniffled at him and wiped my eyes.
He slipped into the seat next to mine and smiled somewhat floppily at me. His words were a little slurred, and now that I look back on it he must have been drunk, or very close to it. “It would have been better if you were smiling.†But all I could see at that moment was the mysterious shadow in his cobalt blue eyes. We talked a little more, and we agreed to meet back here the next day so that he could draw me again... not sobbing this time.
Heero was an odd drunk. Alcohol didn’t affect him in the same way it did everyone else. His movements didn’t get any clumsier, his brain didn’t get any slower; instead he became much more open and friendly than he was normally. I’m also not sure but his art... well sometimes I think his best art was done when he was drunk. I continued meeting with him at different restaurants, and as we got to know each other more the less he continued to draw me. I thought this open person was actually Heero and was deeply disturbed when he would grunt at me instead of speaking or act reclusive. So, in a way, I guess it’s not really my fault I didn’t realize Heero was drunk almost every time I saw him. He hid the odor of alcohol with gum and aftershave, and I didn’t know the signs of a drunk anyway.
I learned about the drugs by complete accident. My roommate occasionally dealt weed, though she never smoked the stuff, so I knew what it looked like. I didn’t learn about the smell though until the first time I found my way to Heero’s off-campus apartment. I knocked on the door, and the only answer was a round of loud laughing. It scared me a little, so I turned the knob and pushed my way in. There, sprawled out on the couch, was Heero, laughing his head off at my entrance. That scared me even more than his occasionally unreachable personality did. I looked around, and oh wow the smell just hit me full force. I had to open his balcony doors and the window just to begin to get fresh air. And the haze, oh as soon as I saw the haze clearing I realized... he was high! Heero was high! It didn’t bother me that much, for everyone tried weed at least once in college. What really worried me was the fact that I found a whole stash of it open and lying out on his bed while opening windows. There was at least two pounds of the stuff in bags, just lying there. “Oh god... I’m dating a druggie.â€
I panicked right then. I was in love with this guy, and I didn’t really know anything about drugs. For all I knew right then, he could be choking to death on all the smoke in his lungs. So I rushed back out into the living room (Heero was sitting there staring dully at the TV screen), and called my roommate. She should know what to do. Tina came right over, and from her I picked up everything I would need to know and use for the next few months. Basically, how to deal with a high person: Keep an eye on them, to make sure they don’t do anything life-threatening like trying to fly out the window. It’s impossible to overdose on weed, so you essentially just have to watch them...closely. And watching a high person is a full time job.
My first experience with Heero high was not pleasant for me. He punched a hole through one of his windows because it had fallen shut and he couldn’t figure out where the latch was. Heero also tried to drink bleach because he thought it was vodka. It... was not fun.
After he came down, I made him promise that he would never do drugs again. I thought it was a good promise. He had seen me crying, and my crying always seemed to affect him more than yelling or violence of any kind. And he looked so serious, and apologized for being such a problem. I didn’t even bother to ask him why he had done them; I just assumed that there was no big problem and that it was just for fun.
..................................................
Heero’s gone now.......
He didn’t show up for a date one time.
I got worried.
Found him lying on the floor of his apartment, not breathing.
Paramedics said he died of a cocaine overdose.
I hadn’t even ******* suspected he was doing cocaine. I hadn’t known a lot of the **** he was doing in his life. Oh the wonders the autopsy revealed to me. The drug tests revealed traces of alcohol, weed, triple c, opium, cocaine, and morphine all in varying amounts.
This news sent me into complete shock, even more than finding him dead on the floor, if that’s even possible. Heero, my Heero, had done all of that ****?
He had been addicted to all of that ****? Indeed, the doctor assured me. You could always tell the signs of an addict, especially since she found evidence of longtime use in the different muscles of his brain.
That kills me. It really does. He told me, he ******* promised he wasn’t doing anything of the sort. I even asked him outright if he was doing crack or cocaine or something of the sort, anything harder than weed, and he denied it empathetically. He even promised me that he wouldn’t ever do any of that stuff and that he would watch out for being addicted by weed.
What kills me even more is that I trusted him....... I ******* believed him, and so I ignored all the little signs that said that he was high or drunk. I ignored the fact that he would forget what day it was, what time it was, even where he was. I ignored his fascination with the most unusual things, I ignored his always wearing a jacket, or even his regularly enormous headaches. I ******* trusted him to do as I asked him, because I thought he ******* loved me. I sure as hell loved him.
But this tortures me inside. If I had been suspicious, if I had watched him more closely, I could have gotten him help. My friends tell me that its not my fault; that I trusted him and so I had no reason to still be suspicious. Why did I believe that he could quit on his own anyways? They always preach to you in school that you have to get help for every little problem, but weed really doesn’t hurt anyone right? So I thought why would it be so horrible, just so long as he didn’t do it around me? What I forgot is that when he smoked weed, he invariably got exposed to other drugs as well... I never thought that he would actually do things like that.
The real reason I’m up here talking to you today is not to pour out my heart about this betrayal of my trust. Heero is dead, and I can’t do anything about it.
What you need to know is that no matter who the person is, watch them closely. Just because you think they wouldn’t do things like this doesn’t mean that they won’t. I don’t want any of you bright minds to be scarred by this experience. Death is not so much my point as a betrayal of love and trust hurts... like... hell. Even if your friend/sibling/parent/loved one of any kind doesn’t die, it still hurts. Drugs and alcohol damage lives irreparably.
I just... please, don’t do what Heero did to me. You might not believe your life is worthwhile, but others do, and...................
Oh God Heero, why did you lie? I loved you goddamit, I wouldn’t have left...........