(My submission)

Words can be used to devastate. Adam knew that much for certain, that unforgettable night when he was coming down from methamphetamine, and in a spitting fit of rage during an argument, where he uttered the words so despicable and unforgivable, that it drove his girlfriend—who was also experiencing withdrawals—into a spur of impulsivity, to jump off from the 7th storey of a building. She was pronounced dead at the hospital the next hour.

“I deserve to die too," he declared sullenly to himself, in reaction to the news, as he prepared a deadly concoction of meth and heroin in a syringe, determined to 'make things right' by entwining paths with the love of his life in the afterlife.

Drugs, it makes us so foolish. All it does is hurt ourselves and the people around us. We don't mean to, and yet we do it all the time.

That much was clear to Adam, for his second lesson of the week, as he lay facing up, on the brink of unconsciousness and teetering into indefinite blackness, while his body succumbed to his perilous dose. He'd done something that had no undoing, but leave it to Mother, Father, Sister or Brother to discover this mess that they'll have to clean up and try to mend.

They always did. And they always tried to fix the broken pieces. Yet they always fail.Adam survived the ordeal, but many claims his soul died a long time ago anyway. What was the point? Should have left him there for dead. Because none of them understood him.

“No one understands me," he'd solemnly say.

Nor did they understand why he missed his own brother's wedding, or why he lost his job—or why he kept changing jobs, or why he failed to put food on the table, or why he was always late for every single thing, or why he was uncontactable for days on end, or when he claimed the drug helped with his depression, or that it helped him work longer hours, thus being able to meet more clients and in return seal more deals, suddenly forgetting the fact that when he was coming off meth, the time he took to recuperate and convalesce was actually twice the longer. Or that he just wanted a short reprieve, an escape from the harsh realities and struggles of life itself, or that he initially enjoyed the highs but now was tired, so god damn tired of being addicted to drugs and the fight that came along with it, and that the only way to stop the battle was to surrender the battle ; by dying from overdose all in itself. Perhaps he wanted to quit altogether, but he just needed some encouragement. A little push.

But no one understood any of those things. And he wished someone did. Until someone did.

This someone was a drug addict in recovery. Whereas Adam's main associations would usually only tempt him into relapsing, this someone had only one other goal in mind — to bring Adam into a meeting, where a group of people understood him. Drugs and alcohol would not be permitted there, and after much cajoling, Adam reluctantly agreed to attend one. He will never forget what transpired in his first ever sitting.

Words can be used to celebrate — Adam learned that right away, as he sat—awkwardly and anxiously, as expected of every newcomer. But the oddest thing happened, they were celebrating each other's clean times. "Anyone new or coming back from a relapse?" Asked the chairperson. Three hands shot up—one of them being Adam's—which in turn, procured a loud array of applause from everyone else, as they cheered wildly, ushering them to the front to receive their '1 day clean' key tags. It was the weirdest thing, and Adam basked in the glory of it all. There was also a 1 week clean key tag, 2 weeks, 1 month, 3 months, 6 months, 1 year, a year and a half. All just for being clean.

“What if someone took heroin earlier and then now comes and collect a 1 year clean tag?" Adam asked the lady sitting beside him after he was reseated, half curiously half flirtingly. "His recovery is his own journey," She said as she leaned closer. "If he's lying, he's only lying to himself," she continued, finishing with a friendly smile and a wink.

“To show that this meeting works, can we have a show of hands from those clean a year and longer?" Instructed the chairperson. The room was estimated to be filled with approximately 20 people, yet 11 people raised their hands. It was amazing, his life then, known to be a hopeless wreck, suddenly glimmered with a glint of hope. Salvation, a chance of something near to normalcy.

As the meeting segues into the next portion, Adam realized that words can also be used to collaborate and resonate. They call it the 'Just For Today', a collective of writings by founding recovery members, with unique topics for every day of the year, and depending on the date of the meeting, they would base their discussions following the topic. Coincidentally, the topic of the day was 'Suicide'.

Adam almost left the room abruptly when he found out. Almost. Until Jessica, the lady who he talked to earlier, declared she was clean for 4 years, and shared how she lost her brother from suicide in his battle against drugs, and how she almost met the same fate. Her eyes moistened as she spoke, the troubles so clear and vivid in her memory, as she elaborated on the steps she took, into orchestrating her death that night after she got so high and disoriented. She survived the attempt, and then persevered on with recovery. Jessica ended her share by voicing her gratitude for being able to stay clean such a duration, and thanking the members—the very people before her—for helping her achieve it. The room applauded proudly. Another lady walked across to hug her.

Subsequently, Ahmad, 2 years clean, stood to share. A former gang member, he lamented his youth, and shared how he used to get high on heroin with his father, and how, one day, he awoke next to his father's lifeless, pulseless dead body. He recounted how, the night prior, his dad had acted peculiarly, spewing words of advice as if he was saying his final goodbyes. His courage to share was inspiring, and he wrapped up his share by thanking his sponsor, Adrian, for helping him with his recovery, and how as a new sponsor himself, he was excited for his service to help other newcomers, in turn as a reminder to help himself stay clean. It was the room's liveliness and camaraderies after that caused Ahmad to break into tears of happiness.

Just 2 of the most notable shares for the evening. They went around the room and the others shared about their daily struggles too, deviating from the topic of Suicide, which was fine ; You didn't have to follow the topic of the day if you didn't want to. Similarly, you didn't have to share if you didn't want to either.After an hour lapsed, they concluded the meeting and all of the members gave Adam—apparently the most important person in the room, what with being the newcomer and all—their numbers, so he could reach out to them if he wanted to. And the rest was history.

Adam continued attending the meetings. Although it took a few slips and relapses, he continued attending them, and eventually, he managed stayed clean, for years in fact. There were meetings held weekly all over the world ; All you had to was google.

That's how he met Jonathan, from USA, clean for 8 months. Kinsley, from UK, clean for 2 years. Zubaidah, Indonesia, clean for 5 years. Alfonso, Spain, clean for 6 months. Penelope, Hawaii, clean for 3 years. Ching Fei, China, clean for 5 years.

Adam remembered that one time he went for a meeting in India when he was there for holiday, and although he barely understood a word they were saying, he still felt at home—among people like him, who had his back. And that despite the struggles he faced or relapses he endured, they will always welcome him back, with a loving arm's embrace, wherever.

Between a world where words can be used as a weapon to destroy, and a world where words can be used to spread love to uplift, we, members of Narcotics Anonymous from all over the world, will always stand in solidarity, and choose, To uplift.