He died of an overdose, I’ve been lost ever since and I think of killing myself.

“I met James when I was twenty-nine. I don’t want to say it was love at first sight— but that’s what he always said. We had so much in common. Both of us grew up in foster care. We’d been homeless together for six years. Even though we lived in stairwells and tents, we’d still go on the dates. We’d go to the park, and the beach, and the movies. Everyone loved him. He was the kind of guy who’d give the shirt off his back. And we had the exact same sense of humor. 

He was always making me laugh. But we also had the same addictions. He died of an overdose in January. We’d just gotten in a really bad fight, and we went our separate ways, and that night I got the phone call. I’ve been lost ever since. It’s been a downward spiral. I’ve been using a lot. I’ve been really depressed. One night a couple weeks ago I just walked into Lake Ontario. I think I wanted to kill myself, but I don’t remember much. 

I started swimming, and then I just stopped, and floated, until I went under. I woke up on the shore with people all around me. I’d nearly died of hypothermia. I just got out of the hospital yesterday. I’m trying to get my life back in order. I don’t want to leave this body yet. I’m afraid to die. I want to live life. I’d love to work. I’d love to get back into the arts. But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t see myself staying sober. Because all my friends are addicts. And they’re the only family I have.”