Cocaine entered quietly.

Carla introduced it like it was just another accessory to the lifestyle — not dramatic, not catastrophic. It felt like an upgrade.

The first rush is something I still remember too clearly.

My thoughts sharpened. My body felt weightless. The insecure voice that always whispered Are you enough? went silent.

I felt electric.

Magnetic.

Unstoppable.

It felt like power.

But it was borrowed power — confidence with interest accruing in the background.

At first, it looked glamorous. It looked like being the center of the room. Like staying up until sunrise having conversations that felt profound. Like dancing without inhibition. Like finally keeping pace with a world that had always felt slightly ahead of me.

I felt prettier. Funnier. Bolder.

What I didn’t see was that the same thing lifting me was hollowing me out.

Cocaine disguised exhaustion as energy. Loneliness as connection. It bonded us in artificial intimacy — nights stretched thin and glittering, everyone convinced we were living bigger than ordinary people.

It didn’t look like destruction.

It looked like belonging.

And I loved belonging.

Excerpt From When Idols Fall