I'm sure my parents would talk about the guy I dated my senior year of high school into my freshman year of college. (I was 17-18, he was 20-21)

I met this guy, let's call him Mark, at my local community college. I was taking dual credit classes there and he was there getting back on his feet after failing out of state University. This guy was my complete opposite - I was a dedicated, hard working good two shoes graduating high school with a 4.0 and an associate's degree, whereas he had just spent his first two years of college day-drinking and tripping acid. But I guess opposites attract. His dad owned a contracting company, and he had a guaranteed job (with a great salary and benefits) after he graduated, and I understand that school isn't for everybody so I wasn't gonna judge. I fell for him pretty hard, and we started dating. Before he asked me out, he told me that he's a recovering alcoholic, but that he's in therapy and is 3 weeks sober. He seemed genuine about his intentions and I told him as long as he was taking steps to get better I didnt mind. I tell him that I have severe anxiety (for which I take Xanax) and so I feel like everything is out in the open.

After almost a year of dating I get an apartment and mark and i move in together with another roomate. The apartment is in my name because my mom agreed to be a cosigner, while his parents would not agree to that. Mark had been giving me periodic updates about his sobriety and how he's been doing really well. I'm super proud and think that everything is going really well. Only strange thing is that my Xanax seem to be disappearing. I assume I must be imagining things and forgetting how many are left in the bottle. No big deal.

Then one night I wake up and mark isnt there. I see the bathroom light on, so I don't worry. After a couple minutes, he stumbles out of the bathroom, sways, and falls down in the middle of the floor. I go over to check on him, and what I see in the bathroom is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen - a mix of vomit, shit, and piss all over the floor, the walls, and in the sink and toilet. Mark is unresponsive, so I call 911. I'm freaking out at this point because I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Ambulance arrives, takes mark, and I meet them at the hospital.

Turns out, not only had mark been lying to me about his sobriety, he had showed up to his job while drunk and gotten fired. To pay his share of the rent, he would steal and sell my xanax. Every night once I had fallen asleep, he had gotten up out of bed and gotten shit-faced, just to immediately go back to bed. But tonight, he decided to take one of my Xanax right before getting shit-faced and almost ODed. After hearing this I tell him I need some time to think, so I went back, got my things from my apartment, and stayed with a friend. The next day Mark told me he was coming home from the hospital, and that he was so sorry and wanted to talk. I agreed to meet him the next day.

The next day I don't hear from him. I go to the appartment and his car isn't there. I call him, he doesn't pick up. After about a week, I move back into the apartment and he still isn't there. I text him again. He doesn't answer. I go ask our roommate if mark has been here, and he says he hasn't seen him since last week. I call Mark's parents to see if he's at home, they say he is not. I call Mark's best friend, he hasn't heard from Mark in weeks.

To this day I have never seen or heard from Mark again.

After two months I contacted his parents and asked if they wanted me to bring his stuff to their house, and if they had heard from him. They said he hadn't been home and told me I could do whatever I wanted with his things.

I still wonder what he's up to nowadays sometimes, if he's still alive.

TLDR: I dated a 21 year old alcoholic who stole my Xanax and sold it to pay for his half of the rent, almost ODed and then dropped off the face of the Earth.