Time To Change

Lena sat on the edge of the couch, the glass pipe resting in her hand like an old friend. The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering TV. The haze of smoke clouded the air, wrapping her in its embrace. Her heart raced with anticipation, but also with a deep, gnawing sadness she had grown used to. She took the hit, feeling the familiar burn in her chest as the high started to take hold.

But as the smoke left her lungs, something shifted.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a message from her brother: “Mom’s asking about you. She’s worried.”

Lena’s fingers trembled as she stared at the words. She hadn’t spoken to her mom in months, not since the last argument, not since the last time her mom begged her to stop, to come home, to fix herself. The guilt had never left, but it had become easier to ignore. Easier to drown it out.

She reached for the pipe again, but this time, her hand faltered. Her reflection in the TV screen caught her eye, blurry and distorted, but clear enough for her to see the hollow look in her own eyes. A moment of clarity. A fleeting one, but enough to crack through the fog that had clouded her thoughts for so long.

The pipe felt cold and foreign in her hand now. It had been her escape for so long—her only constant, her only source of peace in a world that felt out of control. But now, as she stared at the smoke curling around her fingers, she saw it for what it really was: a trap. A lie she had told herself, over and over, that it made everything okay when it only made things worse.

For the first time in years, Lena stood up, her legs unsteady. The room spun around her, but her focus remained on the phone, still buzzing with that simple message. She picked it up, her thumb hovering over the screen for a long moment before she typed back, her hands shaking.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m coming home.”

The words felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to her. But they were real. The weight of them pressed down on her chest, and she knew, with an aching clarity, that she couldn’t keep running. Not anymore.

Lena dropped the pipe on the floor, her breath shaky as she turned toward the door. As she stepped outside, the cold air hit her like a shock, but it was a shock that grounded her. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the night settle around her.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a cure. But it was a beginning.

And for the first time in a long while, Lena felt like she could finally move forward.