The sad end of a young man
taken by drugs

Excerpt from Anne Givaudan's book

 "Breaking of Contract"

SOIS Editions

 « In this book I would like to talk to you about those who, after a passage on earth, wanted to bear witness to their lives. »

  Anne Givaudan, medium

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  « I could have been happy, but my shyness got in the way. One day, a boy in my class, an older student made me this proposal:

- I'm going to give you something that I take regularly to be on top. You'll see it's great, but above all don't tell anyone, it's a secret between us.

 I was fifteen and I admired this boy's assurance without realizing that it was inversely proportional to his academic success.
 The first “joint”, since he called it that, I smoked in the toilet. It actually hit me like a bomb. After a few minutes of not feeling anything in particular, I began to feel an unusual confidence and energy within me. My inhibitions had suddenly evaporated.
 At the beginning of my experiments, my parents didn't notice anything because I could control myself, but the more time passed, the more I needed to smoke this weed which, I believed, was finally helping me to be myself. I talked more, but when I ran out, my mood changed and I became sullen.

 When my “friend” offered me to try what was going to bring me, he said, to “seventh heaven” effortlessly, I felt like a barrier within me that should not be crossed. It was, however, too late. I couldn't feel like myself without this substitute that was slowly poisoning me.

 The more my brothers and sisters tried to help me, the more miserable I felt and the more I attacked them, too, without their understanding why.
 Family life was becoming hell. I felt guilty, but the more this feeling invaded me, the more I escaped into drugs.
 My “travels” were not always luminous, far from it. I had no control and more and more I found myself in dark universes. I was becoming more and more unsuited to life on Earth and nothing interested me more than waiting to take the dose that would make me feel a little better.

When we leave the body...
 Less and less present in my body, I felt that sometimes I was not the only one to inhabit it.
 Dark ideas inhabited me and often I felt presences at my side and even inside me. I got scared one night when I felt someone I couldn't see take my arm and whisper in my ear:

 - Come on, you're worthless now, why not jump off the building, maybe you can fly.

 I then wanted to take a stronger dose, just to calm my fear; I didn't want to die.
 I lay down, waiting for the product to take effect, when suddenly I saw a shadow next to me, a scary, grimacing shadow. I was only half in my body while this shadow that terrified me took the place of the free space I had left. I screamed internally, but no sound came out.

 We were now two in this body that I no longer controlled. A part of me struggled against the shadow that ruled my body. I wanted to drive her away, but I couldn't, it was no longer me who was in charge. The product that passed through my veins had overcome all will in me.
 Taken by violent pains in the stomach, I heard a voice that I did not like telling me to get out and ride my motorcycle.

 (...) I arrived or rather we arrived on a bridge, very high. Near the parapet, the voice whispered to me:

- Look, try to jump. What are you risking? Maybe you can fly! try...

 So, driven by an impulse, an uncontrollable desire, I climbed over the parapet and, like a bird, I threw myself into the void without any apprehension.
 I heard the shock of my body as it hit the water and my voice crying « Mom! »

 Before dying I simply saw, in a flash, my life unfold, from that moment of my fall from the bridge until my birth and my conception... I suddenly knew that life had always wanted me and that my birth was no accident. I had wanted everything, down to the smallest detail. Only my death was not part of my story.

 A car stops on the bridge. The driver and his two passengers guessed that a drama was unfolding. They saw the motorbike and are now calling the police and the emergency services from their mobile phones. They just saw the silhouette tip over, too late!

 Timmy is dead and his adoptive parents mourn him. His mother in the pain of this loss no longer sees the children who remain and who, in turn, wonder if the dead are not more loved than the living.
 Timmy wants to tell them all that he's not dead but no one sees it, feels it, or hears it. »

(A. Givaudan, 'La rupture de contrat')