I think I saved my friends life by being the worst friend ever. I used to be a big druggie. Often people who are into drugs will joke “everything but heroin and meth”, but I was no stranger to either. I stopped using seriously years ago but I still dabble, and when I do, I go hard. One night a friend and I were getting fucked up together, and he passed out on the couch early, around 9pm. If you’ve met a drug enthusiast, you’ll know we often have a hard time stopping. So even though I knew it was wrong, i drank almost of my friend’s leftover vodka and took a few of his valium – in my messed up haze, I even pocketed a few to take home – and stayed awake, intoxicated and loving it, until the wee hours. I figured if he noticed, he would just assume he was so fucked up that he didn’t remember how much he drank and how many pills he took. By the time I woke up the next day he had left for work none the wiser. I thought about returning the pills, but I was worried he’d be mad if I admitted to taking them (and kind of thrilled I had gotten away with it) so i went home and didn’t mention it. A few days later another friend called from the hospital to tell me my friend had overdosed in a suicide attempt, but even though he drank all the alcohol and took all the pills in the house, it wasn’t enough. He is fine now, we are still close and both very glad he’s alive – but I never told him what I did. Sometimes I still wonder if my horrible betrayal is the reason he is alive today.