I studied the sky — and fell into the abyss

I wasn’t partying. I never used substances “with someone” or “for fun.”

Each experiment was intentional, almost scientific.

Methamphetamine. Heroin. OxyContin. DMT. NBOMe. DOB. LSD. Ecstasy. Cocaine. Tranquilizers. Pregabalin.

Mixes. Overdoses. Days completely detached from reality.

Sometimes to understand what lies beyond. Sometimes just not to die from the emptiness.

This went on for 6–7 years of my life.

It wasn’t “recreational use.” It was a war. With myself.

And all of this — against the backdrop of severe mental disorders.

I’ve carried many diagnoses:

Bipolar disorder. Panic disorder. Schizoid traits. Anxiety. Comorbid addiction.

I’ve been hospitalized in psychiatric clinics. More than once.

Sometimes voluntarily. Sometimes because there was no other choice.

There were moments when my family nearly fell apart.

There were real suicide attempts — silent, not theatrical.

For a long time, I didn’t ask for help — because I didn’t believe help existed.

Today I’m in remission. On therapy. Methadone. Quetiapine.

Trying every day to stay alive.

Still standing. But barely. No illusions.

I’m not looking for sympathy.

Sometimes I just wonder — is there anyone else who made it through *** and is still trying not to fall apart?

Not victorious. Not healed. Just… still here.