Do You... Introduction

I suppose my habits started when I was seventeen, or maybe it was earlier. I know I found marijuana when I was fifteen, but nothing harder came until later. I drank then too, but I never thought it was strange. My parents were relaxed about it and they knew about my habits then but they never had anything bad to say. I wasn’t reckless like most American teens. Then again, I wasn’t really an American teen; at least, I didn’t consider myself one.

Let me explain. I was born in Norway, and spent my first five years growing up there. After that, it was back and forth from Norway to America. My family of three first settled in Texas, where I was miserable for two months. I wasn’t used to dry Texas heat at the tender age of five. I knew some English, but I was a scared little boy. My parents had explained, but it was still a bit of a culture shock.

I spoke only in Norwegian when spoken to at home. When approached in public, I’d hide behind my mother, and hide my face. I was a wordless child in school, and my teachers had expressed concern, wondering if I was mentally slow. This angered my father, but my mother was quick to come to my aid, explaining our situation to the teachers at the time. She passed it off as shyness. I suppose that was it, somewhat. I had always been a bit reclusive, even back home. I had friends, but I chose carefully.

Texas was temporary. I didn’t deem friends necessary; my parents sufficed. We moved to Pennsylvania not long after; I was almost seven then. I only had a few friends, which suited me fine. I was a strange little boy; I stuck to my toys and television and kept quiet. My mother read to me daily; something I still cherish. Pennsylvania was better in my opinion. Quieter. We weren’t set in a big city, something I loved. I couldn’t stand the constant sound of traffic and construction back in Texas.

We were back in Norway not long before my eighth birthday. We stayed at home until I was fifteen. I became less fluent in English, as I used it less and less now that I was back in familiar territory. I had missed our cozy home in the outskirts of Oslo.

First dates came around when I was fourteen. She was a brunette, named Linn. We ‘dated’ for four months, which was a long time for fourteen. Our ‘dates’ were short-lived. We held hands, went to the cinema, walked in the parks. That was the highlight reel. I didn’t date much after that; at least I didn't consider it dating. I kissed a few girls, but none were special enough to me. Something just felt awry about it all.

We moved back to the States in April of 2002, ending up back in Pennsylvania. Different area this time; I was at a loss and moody. I found the joy of alcohol not long before moving back to the States, and I knew it was harder to get my hands on here. There wasn’t a drinking age in Norway. I knew the drinking age was 21, which seemed very far off to me

Marijuana came not long after. It was a nice buzz, a good escape from a place I was slowly growing to loathe. Okay, loathe is strong. But I wanted nothing more to be home, back in Norway.

My parents had explained why we moved so much when I was little, but now, I honestly can’t remember. It doesn’t even matter to me now. I’m in America, and I carry dual citizenship, thanks to my parents. I’m honestly grateful for that.

We never did move back after 2002. At least, I didn’t. My parents moved back to Norway when I was twenty. At that point, I was so used to Pennsylvania, I stayed put. The place grew on me honestly. How could it not? You live somewhere long enough, everything you do becomes habitual and familiar. I didn’t want to lose that.

At twenty I was already way too attached to my drugs. I suppose that’s another reason I chose to stay put. I knew where to get my stuff; I trusted the people I went to. I didn’t want to fuck that up for myself.

Special K and heroin were my drugs of choice. Still are. They help me, in some way. I’ve got a prescription of Xanax. Two milligram “totem poles”. I’ve had the prescription since I was 18, though it was other forms beforehand. I’d been medicated since I was thirteen, and honestly, I wasn’t about to let it go. I abused my medicine. Crushed and snorted it instead of orally ingesting it. I knew it was “bad” but it made all my shakes and nervous ticks fly out the window.

Drugs were like an oasis for me. I felt like I could live forever.