Dear Heroin, I F-ing HATE you!

You are the sorriest, most vicious, demonic son of a bitch in the world.

You took over my child at his most vulnerable and you lured him into your lair of deceit. Then wrapped your evil talons around him, leaked into his brain and never let go until he was dead.

You told him that he was the greatest human being in the world–and then the most worthless. You ostracized him from his family and his friends and made him do things he would not ever have done without your influence.

You made him lie, cheat and steal for you. You made him hate himself for it.

That first hit you gave him was the most euphoric and intoxicating feeling he’d ever had. For a depressed kid, it was magic. You made him feel so good he’d do anything for just one more party and then like the vile sack of shit you are, you seduced him into thinking he couldn’t live without you. 

As time went on, you made him crave more to get the same feeling. And then there was no feeling at all but desperation to keep withdrawal agony at bay. After being with you, he lost himself. His smile and laugh were nowhere to be seen. 

When he tried to part from you, you made him pay for it by kicking his ass and torturing him with unbearable pain and agony not to mention the psychological fear of relapse and episodes of unimaginable depression.

He went away from you. He cleaned up.

But there you were on the edge of his brain coaxing him back within 24 hours. You couldn’t let us enjoy even a whole day without you in it. I saw and craved ‘Saturday Charles‘–the one and only afternoon right after rehab when he looked happy, clean and done with you.

But you couldn’t accept that. You knew he was fragile. And you had the advantage because you had already carved a place in his head and his recovery was so fresh.

You literally sucked the life out of my child little by little and made him part of the epidemic that was all about you. Made him another statistic whose last belongings came to us in a brown bag marked with a number and name. You are the monster our society created.

Without you, I think he had a shot at life. But you were a faster fix for hurt and pain. The other methods took too much patience–the process so laborious and difficult, what child could have patience with that? The itchy skin, the restless legs, the vomiting — all the side effects that came after. The signs we didn’t understand. The price he paid for having allowed you in.

I just wish you were a person so I could beat the living shit out of you. But you’re invisible enemy I can’t grab or reason with.  Twenty years of trying to help him become a productive adult and you ruined that effort in less than 6 months.

In a shockingly cruel twist of fate only you could execute, you made him think there was only one way out, and you drove him to choke the very life out of himself.   A suicide by hanging.

I will never forgive you for what you’ve done. I will fight you the rest of my life. Of that you can be certain.

Yours Truly,

Anne Moss Rogers

Published by

AnneMoss Rogers

AnneMoss Rogers is a mental health and suicide education expert, mental health speaker, suicide prevention trainer and consultant. She is author of the Book, Diary of a Broken Mind and co-author of Emotionally Naked: A Teacher's Guide to Preventing Suicide and Recognizing Students at Risk with Kim O'Brien PhD, LICSW. She raised two boys, Richard and Charles, and lost her younger son, Charles to addiction and suicide on June 5, 2015. She is a motivational speaker who empowers by educating and provides life saving strategies and emotionally healthy coping skills. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now that's the legacy she carries forward in her son's memory. Mental Health Speakers Website.

21 thoughts on “Dear Heroin, I F-ing HATE you!”

  1. I Fucking Hate Heroin

    Sometimes the cruel reality of life hits
    That every moment is to be cherished as priceless
    Wake up this morning but by the night we could be lifeless
    The angel of death came calling to take away another nice kid
    The fragile state we live our life in
    We succomb to the deadly battles we can’t stop fighting
    The disease of addiction is like clashing with a Titan
    But some how makes the path to death look enticing
    Caskets filled with broken dreams
    Mother emotionally coming apart at the seams
    Questioning why the lord didn’t intervene
    Why couldn’t someone hear her child’s screams

    Isolation is where the sickness manifests
    The struggle is something the disease wants to protect
    Ashamed from the progression that lead us to inject
    It lead us to sacrifice our self-respect
    And even in the moments we wish we died
    The only light at the end of the tunnel when we’re getting high
    We don’t think about the tears falling from our families eyes
    With an accidental overdose as a self-inflicted suicide
    You shoot dope you’re gonna die I gotta say it stern
    Play with fire you’re absolutely gonna get burned
    Everybody’s dropping when are you gonna learn
    Or are you so sick you’re impatiently waiting till it’s your turn
    Hoping this shot will be your last
    Telling who you’re getting high with to make sure they don’t bring you back
    Too scared to take off your mask
    You’d rather the world mourn for you while you peacefully pass

    You don’t got a problem you don’t need help
    You’ve been clean before you can do it for yourself
    Pushing the attention off of you and projecting on everybody else
    While everyone around you sees the drugs destroying your health
    Let me get fifty dollars to pay my cell phone
    Let me get a hundred to pay the rent before my mom gets evicted from her home
    Just let me get a little bit of a loan
    But that money went into their arm the second they were alone
    I only slipped up once or twice
    It’s not like I’m doing it every night
    Let me borrow a few dollars so I can get right
    And I promise I’ll head right to detox I swear to god on my life

    Only to never see them again
    I’m sick and tired of burying my friends
    Seeing families that will never mend
    My hearts breaking wondering when this fucking epidemic is gonna end
    I hate funeral homes I fucking hate wakes
    I hate seeing caked on make up on my friends face
    I’m tired of telling sick people I care about to stay safe
    Wondering if their next escape will place them in front of heavens gates
    It’s raining right now
    Tears from fallen angels crying in the clouds
    It’s like my whole generation is looking down
    Watering the cemeteries where their bodies lay in the ground
    It’s easier to throw the mask on cause I’m used to this
    Numb to the pain and the damage from the drugs ruthlessness
    Propaganda statistics say it’s getting better but I see no truth to this
    What is this world gonna look like for the future of our kids
    Mothers and fathers are gone
    To the Sons and daughters we mourn
    Brothers, sisters and friends caught in the storm
    Heroin is leaving America torn
    It started from Doctors over peddling prescription medicine
    Like they were a Cartel Veteran
    We just lost another man
    Damn, I fucking hate heroin

  2. My son has struggled with this demon called heroin for 6 years now. It has led to numerous incarcerations and alienation from most of his family. This demon changed my son into someone completely unrecognizable. I sent him to numerous rehabs but they were forced upon him, he simply wasn’t ready to give up his demon mistress and would find her quickly upon his return.
    The last time he was incarcerated I had little contact with him, I was simply too tired to keep fighting in vain. After visiting him one day in jail, I hadn’t been in over 4 months, I walked out to the parking lot and ran into John Shinholser. John has established numerous programs in the local jails to help the inmates that are addicted. He also established the McShin Foundation along with his wife Carol. John has been helping addicts at McShin since 2004 but he and Carol actually have been helping addicts much longer, even bringing them into their home. Long story short, I spoke with John and he said “Bring him to me. When he gets released bring him directly to me.” On December 5th I picked my son up, took him to lunch and then called John Shinholser. He met us at the church where his office is and took my son under his wing.
    I cannot thank God enough for directing me to McShin. I truly believe the peer to peer recovery method saved my son’s life. He has 7 months clean now, longer then ever since he first started his affair with his demon mistress known as heroin. Yes, I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her to return and praying/hoping she never does but I get to enjoy my son meanwhile. He is the kindest, gentlest, most caring, hard working young man you could ever meet and I am eternally grateful to McShin for bringing him back to me.

    1. Thank you for sharing that story of hope Angela. So thankful you get to see the “real” son. I know that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s hard not to project. One day at a time.

      1. Yes Anne, one day at a time. I am so sorry for what you’ve gone through, no Mother should ever bury her child! Thank you for sharing, it helps to know we are not alone.
        Take care dear Anne and keep fighting that demon and know many others are fighting along with you. You are one but together we are many!

  3. My Dear Anne,
    I am ever so grateful that I have found your beautiful writings. As I read each one of your writings, your son’s poetry and text messages, I feel as though, all that has gone on inside of me since Jacob’s death by suicide, has finally been profoundly and precisely voiced. This brings a sense of validation, deep within.

    I am so tired of family and friends, acting as if my son, Jacob never existed. Jacob Thomas Zajicek did exist. He was born on August 31, 1989 and died by suicide on December 14, 2013. (He also hung himself and also struggled with heroin addiction)

    I applaud you and the courage you display writing these articles. The stigma attached to suicide is extremely painful and cruel. I can hardly comprehend it myself.

    All of my siblings, my dad, aunts, uncles, cousins and all my in-laws have not made contact with me and have pretty much disowned me. I was left to grieve by myself.

    Trust me I lost it, I lost myself, I too wanted to die. I am just now coming out of that nightmare. I know that I will be alright. I wasn’t sure for quite sometime. I choose to live for my son and bring honor to his name.

    I am a completely different person than the one going I into it.

    Thank you again from the depths of my broken heart.

    I am eternally grateful to you.

    Fellow Sojourner

    1. Barbara- I am so sorry you have gotten so little support. It makes this journey so unbearable. Please consider letting me honor your son and his struggles with a #griefheart. Let me know if you are interested by using the contact form. It would be about Jacob. Thank you for following

  4. Anne, I read every single word you post. You help me, the other moms, dads and families who share their story, they help me and I also feel for them too. I know I am not in that club but I am fighting to stay out of it.
    As I read Robins May 17 reply, instantly I wanted to hug her post! and say what you are saying to everyone here, express, ask, cry and cry some more when you need to.
    “Your words “amazing lady!!
    “Tell your story and be loud as hell!”

    Both of my oldest daughters have Bi-Polar depression, one is a cutter, they both scream they want to die. They refrain from the public eye and retreat to that shame trap.

    I do not want my daughters nor anyone else to have shame over an illness and shunning from the mean people.

    So im going to do my best to help.

    Thank you infinitely Anne Moss 💛🙏

  5. Robin again;
    I am so sorry if I wrote you about my own pain. Others who hurt tend to be inclined to tell their own story. I feel for you so much. And I didn’t mean to sound like mine is different than yours. Again, God bless you for bringing this “bastard” to the forefront. There are so many parents like us. Living a legacy we do not want.

    1. That’s the whole purpose of the blog. So you tell your story, too. So we know we are not alone. So we can work together and be loud as hell.

  6. Dear Anne;
    I have not seen my son for over five years. He was so deep in his addiction that heroin wasn’t enough. He started using spice along with the heroin and turned into the most demonic monster you ever would have the misfortune to meet. His hatred and violence that he spewed was vicious. But after 4 years of verbal abuse and threats, I had to let him go. And for that I am ashamed. However, he freaked out one day, destroyed my house, called me the most vile names I had ever heard. And then he punched me in the mouth. He admitted himself into a psychriatric ward and was there for over 2 weeks. I don’t know what he was diagnosed with; he wouldn’t tell me. Nor would he tell me what kind of meds he was put on. Kept saying he couldn’t remember. I am bipolar I and my father lost his life to schizophrenia. So it was a crap shoot. A year later I heard from him and he sounded like my son again! I was estatic! Last year he called me and told me I was dead as far as he was concerned. So as fucked up it sounds, I had to let him go. He is in contact with my niece and I keep updated on his well being and location. God help me. I love my son. Not that thing that is occupying his body and soul. Am I a horrible person for giving up? I hope not; I just can’t take it anymore. God bless you Anne. I hope and pray for you to be comforted by God.


    1. Their journey is not your journey. You can’t put up with being punched. You can’t fix what they won’t do. All we can do is the best we can do. There just isn’t a way for us to force them into treatment. I would have to do the same as what you’ve done. You can’t live with chaos.

    2. I thought I responded. I can’t believe what you have been through. And yes you do have to let them go on their own journey or they will take you down with them.

  7. I remember about two years ago I met your son at Taco Bell. He told me he would give me a dollar if I listened to his music on soundcloud and didn’t like it. Of course I pulled his music up on my phone and started listening because who doesn’t like an easy dollar? But he ended up being really good. I never knew then that he was struggling with addiction and for that I am sorry. My cousin struggled with addiction all his life and killed himself two years ago. It gets easier with time. My heart is with you.

  8. I love the part about when you took him at his lowest, with a quick fix since he didn’t have the patience for real recovery. That says it all – there is no quick fix and there is no free lunch, and making s deal with the hated devil always ends badly!

  9. Dear Anne,
    I can feel and hear your anger and pain. I am so sorry for all the anguish and hurt that you have endured. It is so obvious through his poetry and songs that your son was such a thoughtful caring young man. If only we could bring back our loved ones…
    I am thinking of you often as my son is finally in an alcohol rehab center.
    Ann Harris

  10. I’m so sorry for your loss of your beautiful son. You have surely told the truth here, and we support you in your hate.

    Mary (& Al)

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