The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [44]
I’m what you call a closet tweeker. To clear things up, a tweeker is someone who smokes or snorts speed. Nobody knows my secret, especially Zlata, and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s not something to brag about. I’m getting to a point where I can hide it in plain sight. When Zlata was here, she and Ms. Gruwell had no idea that I was high. I even got high before we went to Universal Studios with her, but I played it off as much as I could. Even though we were talking about our favorite bands between rides, I don’t think she knew.
When I first started getting high, I would be strung out and I couldn’t sit still. But now I’ve learned to control it and I can play it off. I guess that’s what happens when you do it all the time. People never see what is right under their noses and believe me I use it to my advantage.
The worst thing about it is that I’m already in out-patient rehab two days a week, but I just have to make things worse by doing drugs more and more, harder and harder. It’s so ironic how all this got started. I was put in rehab after our toast for change for possession of marijuana, but now that I’m in rehab, I’m addicted to speed. Where’s the change in that? When everyone is changing their old habits I’m making new ones.
My worst fear is that I’m becoming an addict. I mean, can someone like me have an addiction? When I think of an addict I think of someone walking the streets, begging people for change, sucking dick for a score, leaving their babies in the trash still alive. But when I think about it, I’m no better. I’m what you call a model child. A good daughter, one of Ms. Gruwell’s favorite students, and now I have an amazing new friend—but I’m lying to my mom, Ms. G, and Zlata. Not exactly model child material.
Now I guess you can call me an addict. No more A’s on tests or bringing teachers apples, (like I did that anyway). I’ll beg, steal, and cheat just to get a quick line. Sure it has its pitfalls, but you know what they say: “Curiosity killed the cat.” Well, not this cat.
For me, a quick line has turned into a fast hit from the glass pipe. The higher the intensity, the better the high. That’s my preferred party favor, the glass pipe. It kind of freaks me out because I never thought I would be at this point. Is there time to turn back or am I going to get closer to a dark tunnel with no light and no way out?
I’m actually relieved that this week with Zlata and all the attention is over. Not that it was boring, it was really fun, but I didn’t deserve it. With all that behind me, I whip out my straw, sit down on the toilet, making sure the bathroom is locked; bring it to my nose and snort. The burn is a sure sign that I’m on my way to my next high. Oh yeah, it’s going to be good. No more headaches, body aches, or stomachaches until of course, the high is over, but only until I reach for my best friend called crystal meth.
Diary 51
Dear Diary,
Basketball for Bosnia was an event to remember. Ms. Gruwell and her students held a tournament at the university to help donate all sorts of food and medical supplies for kids in Bosnia. There were over 500 people in attendance and besides basketball, there was a cheer camp for the little brothers and sisters and a talent show at halftime. I got to play on a team even though I’m not in her class. My team was Anne’s Angels (in honor of Anne Frank), and I even got to keep the jersey. No one really cared who won or lost; we were just having fun to help people in need.
I want to get into her class so badly after today. They’re so much more than a “class,” they act like a family. Ms. Gruwell does things that are so smart, yet so simple. I feel as though I were already part of their team because no one cared what color I was or how I looked. All they cared about was coming together for the same cause. Being accepted for who you are without having anyone snicker at you was great