She was beauty, she was grace, she was more than just a pretty face and yet the sadness that filled her heart hidden by the drugs she did in part destroyed her being from the start.
Daria encompassed all attributes that would make most women cringe with silent animosity, self doubt and insecurity. She was tall and beautiful with chiseled features that many adorned and envied. Coming from an affluent family, she had everything she could have ever wanted except for peace of mind. She was a drug addict to say the least – Constantly in and out of detox centers, rehab centers and half way houses. No one could understand why her life cascaded into such turmoil.
At 21, she left Home to move to LA where she was signed by a top modeling agency. Her whole life was ahead of her and it was filled with promise and success. Yet the urge to fall back into her bad habits was too seductive and she wasn’t strong enough to overcome them. At the height of her career she immersed herself in drugs, especially heroin. Dropped by the agency and having to move back home with her parents, she was in and out of rehab yet never fully recovering until one day she was found dead.
Many had questioned why or how? So young and beautiful with so much going for her. Why couldn’t she overcome this disease, why did she allow it to envelop her entire existence right to the very last breath.
She died of a heroin overdose.
Not many knew about her past, what she lived through, what she went through that would push anyone into the world of drugs, sex, and chaos. Not many could fathom that behind her beautiful face, her tall and slender exterior, there was someone yearning to break free from the shackles of her mind that consumed the fiber of her being. No one knew of the inner mayhem she constantly dealt with because all they saw was a pretty face and nothing more.
It was easy for us to misjudge her, To quickly jump to assumptions and say that she did this to herself. It was easy for many to assume that because she came from wealth and affluence that she couldn’t possibly know despair. That her motives for drug addiction were driven by boredom rather than pain, Because how can a pretty rich girl such as herself know anything about pain. Yet pain comes for anyone, at any time, and at any point, without discrimination or prejudice. It comes for you because you’ve opened you heart and soul to it and it envelops your life until there’s nothing left of it to live.
Her truth came at a heavy price and although not many knew of it, it was the piece driving her madness.
She was 16 when she was first introduced to drugs. At first, the driving verticals were boredom and curiosity and later pain and destruction.
It was a hot summers night when Daria decided to meet her dealer at his house for a small pickup. She had tried heroin with her friends and now she wanted to get a stash of her own. Driving over to the Marlboro projects in Brooklyn, she felt the humidity in the air. Some part of her knew this was a bad idea and still she proceeded to walk to her dealers place. It was 10pm – the streets were bare and little civilization in sight. Walking to his doorsteps, she heard the echoes of the wind chimes, swaying back and forth, as she felt a cool breeze against her neck. Something told her to turn back but she had traveled too far to leave now.
Knocking on the door, waiting for her dealer to open, she again heard the chimes and felt the nightly breeze almost signaling her to turn back. As the door opened she was unpleasantly greeted by someone other than her man who gestured for her to come in. Against her better judgement, she did. Her dealer was in the next room signaling from across for her to come over. As she did she noticed that she was surrounded by ten other men, all tall, dark and gruesome. Little did she know she was stepping into a trap, the devils playground where young innocent souls came to die. Quickly she was taken, restrained and imprisoned with all ten men taking their turn with her, each one by one inside her. How was she suppose to know that that very night she was walking into what was a rite of passage for her dealer, and a trap for her.
That night set the stage for the rest of her life. Her sole existence revolved around drugs and entangled relationships with bad men. Her life quickly spiraled into dissent as she gave herself into every addiction possible and succumbed to every act in order to get her fix, no matter the cost.
Cut to seven years later, having sold her body for drugs and Still very beautiful, she lay on the floor of her dealers house taking her last breath, her last shot, and penning her last good bye. Once again revisited by the songs of those wind chimes, remembering that night – she finally felt no pain, no despair, her mind was at ease, and she was finally happy as she fell into interminable slumber never to awaken again.