For a long time, I thought fun and substances were basically the same thing. Not exactly—but close enough that I didn’t question it.

Celebrations meant using. Stress meant using. Boredom meant using. Even happiness somehow circled back to it. I told myself I was having fun. And sometimes, even in the moment, it felt that way. But the part I didn’t talk about—the part that mattered more—was what came the next morning