For about a year now, he’s been addicted to - get this - cough syrup. Fucking Robitussin.
Apparently it contains a chemical that’s a mild hallucinogenic, and that’s what he’s addicted to. According to my uncle, he had at least 20 empty bottles of the shit in his room when they found this out about a month ago.
Since then, he’s tried to work things out, but apparently he was still drinking the cough syrup. And now he’s developed schizophrenia - they think the chemical in the cough syrup may have had something to do with it. He had paranoid delusions of people in the place he worked gossiping about him in the halls.
So he’s now in an institution. He’s sitting in a small room with no shoelaces in his shoes and no dental floss, in a building with a door that locks from the outside.
I can’t believe this happened. We knew about the cough syrup, but we thought it was the alcohol content and that’s what he was addicted to. We should have figured that he was old enough to buy real booze, and it wasn’t the alcohol he was addicted to.
This is my cousin - Mr. Marching Band, Student Government, Law Student Guy.
Originally he thought the Robitussin made him “write better.” My grandma got an e-mail from him while he must have been drinking it, because it’s full of all these old, old English phrases that no one uses anymore. We’re talking fireplaces and manservants here. Phrases like “the calendar has been perused in its entirety” and “I am seeking gainful employment.” This is an e-mail to Grandma, remember.
We passed it around and all had a good laugh at it, figuring he was just a goof who hadn’t taken very many English classes. I even forwarded it to my high school English teacher, thinking she could use it as an example of inappropriate diction for the class next year.
And… I don’t know what to say. None of us had any idea.
Fuck.