This is my story of going home. I was living in San Francisco with my girlfriend, Ramona, who I'd been with a year and a half. We had just started staying in a hotel so we could try methadone to kick dope. We never made it past the third day without using.

So I decided that we should go back to Portland to do a seven-day medical detox, and after that we could stay with my sister rent-free. We saved up about $300, bought enough dope for a bus ride up there plus the first couple of days till we could get into detox.

When we got to Portland, we moved into my sister's garage and I started calling the detox centers. Ramona still wanted to do methadone, but they don't have any 21-day detox centers in Portland. I just wanted to do the seven-day medical at Hooper.

We started slacking on our seriousness about going to one of the places. Also, we wanted to go at the same time, but we couldn't go to the same one. We started going downtown to cop dope and after we ran out of money, started hanging out and panhandling.

We had been back in town only five days when I got my name run by a Clean and Safe. Two old warrants for possession came up, so they took me in and I ended up kicking in jail. While I was there, Ramona went to Hooper Detox, completed it and went right back to using. I stayed in jail for 32 days and planned on staying clean when I got out.

Ramona was waiting at the door for me when I got out. She had been staying in a cheap hotel because she didn't get along with my sister. We went to her place, but they wouldn't let me in, so we went to my sister's. Of course, I asked Ramona for one last hit of dope. I felt really stupid, but it felt so comfortable and familiar.

My plans then were to go to a Tx program and get a job. I told Ramona that I needed a little of my own space and needed to sort out where my life was going. I started to hang out with house punks, drinking and just chipin with the heroin. After about a week or so of being out of jail, I decided it was best to break up with Ramona completely. I also had a lot of pressure from my sister and another good friend, but it felt really good to be on my own.

Then the decision came all of a sudden. I started stressing about all of my newly found responsibilities. I just wanted to go back to the life that I knew. I felt like everything I was doing was just fake. So I wrote a note to my sis, packed my bag and hit the highway in the morning and came back to S.F. The only thing that I really want is to have the freedom to travel and hang out with whomever I want without being tied by heroin. I just don't want to get strung out. I like heroin, but not that much that I'm willing to put up with being sick for a week if I can't get any.

Going home was scary. I found all my family and friends still loved me, and I have a really hard time understanding love. Most of the time I just fake that too. With all those people there to support me, I just get really confused.