HEROIN (An Open Letter to Those That Need to Wake Up)

My brother. You probably didn't know him, but I did.  He was just like most of us, at least at some point in our lives- he looked down on junkies, drunks, and the like. Up until the day he died he worked a good full time job, paid his bills, and fooled us all.

In his 20s he beat alcohol addiction. He wrecked his prized chevy SS pick-up. Black & chrome, badass truck. Hitting the bottom, he schooled up and became a mechanic.

In his 30s he secretly struggled with old injuries from the accident...persevering through the pain and becoming an accomplished Chrysler ASE Master technician. Year after year he gathered accolades, until an ill-fated relationship introduced him to the world of prescription pills.

In his mid 30s he rose above that; he freed himself from that orange-bottled master, and the blonde demon who facilitated his re-addiction.

As he approached 40; his old aches, pains, prescriptions, and ghosts reunited with him..  Somewhere in the mix, the desperation... The demons...they had their way with him and he went up against all that he despised.

One month and 9 days after his 40th birthday, he came home on a Saturday morning from a short time at work. He either snorted or rubbed into his gums some heroin, only thing I know for sure is that he wasn't using for that long and it wasn't intravenously. He laid in his bed, passed out, and died from an adverse reaction to drugs/prescriptions.

He left without saying goodbye; and it wasn't time to go. He had more shit planned. He literally worked up till the end.  I know this because I am his brother.  I was there.  I was always around, but I didn't see it, and I couldn't stop it.

WAKE THE FUCK UP PEOPLE...  Someone you know is probably in the same situation. Just because they're not under a fucking overpass with a needle in their arm, doesn't mean that they're not in line for that shitty fucked up ride.

Chris Dunbar