Drug Talk

Dan talks about drugs. A lot. I hate it. He talks about experiences he's had, parties he's attended, people he's known, and nearly every story has drugs as a key element.

I know. It's good that he feels it's OK to talk to me about drugs. Maybe I should feel flattered or relieved. But I don't. I just feel disgusted and disappointed and afraid, quite honestly, that if he thinks so often about doing drugs, he may soon return to them.

He laughs and appears proud somehow, to tell me about the time he was "wasted" or the time he was "toast." He enjoys telling the stories and seems to relive the experience each time. He still believes drugs are cool. He seems to like the idea of getting/being high. He thinks drugs are funny. He worships comedians like Richard Pryor or Cheech and Chong. To Daniel, vulgarity and drugs are hilarious.

I don't know what to say, Ms. J. I don't want to act in a way that might close off lines of communication between us. I want him to know that he can discuss anything with me.

But enough with the drugs already. Drugs are NOT funny. They are NOT cool, nor are the fools who use them.

Listen to me, Ms. J. I sound like my father, for goodness sake!

Dan's going to visit his mother this weekend. I hope he behaves himself.