Author: Daniel West

Date: April 27, 2025

I never thought I’d end up here—28 years old, a promising chef at a respected restaurant, with a life I could’ve been proud of. But now? Now, I can barely look at myself in the mirror. The last three years have been a slow descent into something I can’t escape, and it’s all tied up in a dangerous, filthy addiction to cocaine.

It started off innocent enough, or so I told myself. A little bump here, a little line there. At work, it helped me push through the long hours when the pressure was building up. I told myself it was just to keep going, to stay sharp for the job I loved. But soon, it wasn’t enough to just do it at work. It leaked into my weekends, into the parties with random people, and before I knew it, I was chasing that high all the time.

Things only got worse when my girlfriend, Ellie, had to go through the hardest moment of her life. Three years ago, her dad was killed in a tragic accident. A careless driver ran a red light and hit him on his bike. The whole family was devastated, but Ellie… Ellie was broken. She’d been incredibly close to him, and it was hard to see her go through that. But then, last year, something happened that should’ve been a relief—her family won the civil case against the driver. They were awarded £60,000, which was a huge amount of money, considering everything they’d gone through.

Ellie came to me, overwhelmed and still not knowing what to do with it all. She wasn’t good with money, she said, and she trusted me enough to ask me to hold onto it for her. “Just keep it in your account for now,” she said, “I don’t want to mess it up.”

I should’ve known better. I should’ve said no, or at least suggested a better plan. But in that moment, I was numb, wrapped up in my own problems, my own addiction. I didn’t even think twice when she handed me her trust—and her future.

That money was a temptation I didn’t need. I told her I’d put it into a safe savings account, an ISA, something that would keep it locked away for five years. I was lying through my teeth. The truth is, within less than six months, I had blown it all on cocaine. On nights out with strangers. On things that kept me distracted, kept me numb.

I didn’t have the courage to tell Ellie what I’d done. I couldn’t face her after what I had done. So, I kept up the lie. Every time she asked me about the money, I told her the same thing—“It’s locked away, don’t worry, it’s all safe.” I’d lie, and she’d smile, trusting me even more.

But the weight of it’s been eating me alive. Every time she talks about the future, about what she wants to do with that money—buy a house, travel, set up a better life—I feel like I’m suffocating. I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s all falling apart.

I don’t even know what to do anymore. I’ve lost control of everything—my addiction, the lies, and the trust I had in myself. But the hardest part is that I’ve also lost her faith in me. Ellie, who once looked at me with admiration and love, now looks at me with quiet suspicion. I can see it in her eyes. She’s starting to wonder why I’m avoiding her questions. Why I’m acting distant. Why I’m so… different.

And I don’t know how to fix it.

I love her more than I can say, but I’m terrified that the truth will destroy everything. It was a moment of weakness, and I let my addiction dictate my choices. Now, I’m left with nothing but regret. And that’s a heavy price to pay.

At this point, I just want to come clean to her, to tell her everything. But I’m scared that even after the confession, the damage might be too much. How do you rebuild trust when you’ve burned it to the ground? How do you fix a mistake that feels so unforgivable?

All I know is that I can’t keep living this lie. I have to face the truth—about my addiction, about the money, about everything. And maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to make things right.