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My friend jumped, and everyone laughed
He jumped from the eighth floor, inches away from me.
I’ve always thought I could have easily become a drug addict or an alcoholic. I used to get addicted to patterns I couldn’t break, that I would almost fall in love with and made them part of me. I could have been the perfect teen to fall into all sorts of temptations, if not for that summer evening, when I was fifteen years old.
I was a professional athlete who had never had a smoke, nor a drink, but who hung out with older friends who did everything. I was the funny one, the kid at parties who made you laugh out loud and invent god knows what story to leave you with your mouth open. I would dance until my limbs hurt, then retreat on the nearest balcony to drink my orange juice in silence before calling a cab to take me home.
But that perfect summer evening the cab never made it.
One of my best friends asked me to join him on what seemed to be the party of the summer. The host’s parents were away for the weekend, the perfect opportunity to blast music into the night and invite some friends over. When we arrived, everything seemed strange. There were no bottles of cheap wine, liquors, and vodka sitting on the table. I could see water and juice, and food to satisfy a battalion.