In, college, I was supposed to be the golden boy. The star frickin student. What a lie that turned out to be. Yea, I was pretty succesful. I had a girlfriend, straight A’s, and an aparment. All without my parents help.

But I wasnt happy. I was always the adventurous type, down deep inside. I always knew that I was going to be found in my car at the bottom of a hill with the speedometer in the red and the gas down to the floor. Well, sorta. Thats just a metaphor one of my professors said descibed me.

I wanted more out of life. I was sick of the same old routine. Get up, do this, do that, go to sleep. Get up, do this, do that, go to sleep. Every single day was like that for me. I began to hate my teachers, my friends who were happy with their lives. I was always looking for excitment. Base jumping, sky diving, speeding down roads when the cops werent looking, I did it all.

And then someone told me about the many uses of a syringe.