Christian Overdose 

Just the other day, my brother overdosed and somehow convinced my parents that he has epilepsy.

 I know what you’re thinking– impossible. How? Why? Are you being serious? 

I’m here to tell you that I am. My brother snorted pills for 72 hours straight and it finally caught up with him. Oh, and he somehow lived to tell about it. Way to go, bro!  

My parents went to the grocery store and when they came home they found one of my brother’s friends screaming that my brother had died. 

My parents, being the Bible toting Christians that they are, ran right to his rescue. They called 911 and attempted to get his pulse back. 911 arrived just as my brother started convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Nevertheless, my sweet, innocent, charming brother was able to muster up enough strength to become disorderly with the first responders because he didn’t like them touching his drugs. Ladies and gentlemen, there’s no shame in his game! 

My brother goes into back to back seizures and yet his friend swears that he knew nothing about the drugs he took. The first responders tell my brother’s friend that my brother will die if he continues to withhold the truth, he remained silent. What an awesome friend! 

The first responders were able to pry a baggie of pills from my brother’s hand and use a smart phone app to see what he took. Yay technology! Luckily I’m not a first responder, I don’t know if I’d have been so quick to help people that didn’t want help. Keeping it real, y’all! 

He was then transported to the hospital. Once the doctors were able to bring him back to reality, my brother told my parents that he didn’t take any drugs and this was all a misunderstanding. Although there was concrete evidence to say otherwise, my parents have chosen to believe my brother. They are even taking him for additional testing to confirm an epilepsy diagnosis. What wonderful Christians! I’m looking forward to visiting never.

I’m surrounded by idiots. 


Blaire 💋💄


Virginia, get it together.


Today, a public health emergency was declared in the state of Virginia for the opioid addiction crisis. Somehow, I don’t care at all.

Ya see, it’s hard for me to care because I’m not addicted to opioids. I understand that drugs, especially those containing opioids, are dangerous. These medicines should only be taken if needed and as prescribed by the doctor.

I’ve seen it happen though. I’ve seen people I love get addicted to opioids. And do you know what I think? I think they are selfish, destructive people. I think if they cared about themselves or the people they claim to love they wouldn’t abuse opioids.

My best friend in high school had everything. A hot body, beautiful hair, great grades, a bright future, and the most loving family you’ll ever meet. I spent time each day wishing I could trade places with her. I would daydream about having her seemingly perfect life, even her annoying yappy dog.

One afternoon she got in a finder bender. When she went to her doctor, the doctor prescribed her Percocet for her whiplash. He advised her to take it as needed–and she did. She took it when she was in pain and when she wasn’t and at all other times of the day. She got addicted quickly. I did everything I could to help her and stop her addiction, but nothing I said/did helped. Soon she was buying pills off of the street and soon I had completely lost my best friend.

Do you know what could have saved her? Not getting addicted in the first place. Not taking more than the prescribed dose, not lying about her pain, and not continuing to buy pills on the street once the doctor cut her off.

And, while I’m on the subject, if you’re shooting heroin, I’m 110% apathetic towards you. You’re making a choice, a choice that could kill you. Tidy up or you may actually die.

I’m not a mean person, I swear.

Love always,