I woke up in a squalid room. My head is aching and I can't remember anything from the night before. I'd taken too much oxycoden, because I tried to lessen the pain of my life that has gone to shit. 

My family doesn't want anything to do with me. I am the outcast. The black sheep. My only consistent friends are the drugs that I continue to take. They are kind of pricey, but they settle me down nicely. 

Today is kind of a nice day. I woke up at least, and now I have to feed the beast named ''addiction''. I know a friend that has a discount on angel dust. This will give me what I need. This will give me a rush. 

I bought it. Smoked it, and to be honest, it made me blush. This is what replaced the hole that my family etched into my heart. This is the cohesive glue that reassembles my broken heart. 

I started to see things... I think that I am hallucinating. This is what this drug does sometimes. I saw my family sitting at a table with genuine smiles on their faces. They have invited me over to sit at the table that I've been banished to sit from for years. I have not cried in a long time, but I'd started to feel tears. 

We laughed! We talked about art! We talked about vintage X Files episodes. I was happy. But the sad thing is that this was just an hallucination. What was I doing while in this hallucination? Running around like a mad man? Walking around like a zombie? Doing stupid shit as if justice and time doesn't apply to me? Well, I woke up from my hallucination with a train arriving in front of me. Isn't it crazy that I woke up from my hallucinations before I died? No time to have a flashback of my life before I die. I just died. Maybe I was an inconvenience to many who were on that train. Maybe I'll be called a, ''dumbass, drugee, dopehead.'' 

I died without seeing my family. Well, I did in my hallucination. Maybe I was a waste of time. Maybe I wasn't needed. But in the end, I hope that someone will miss me.