ink-addict

Addiction is not pretty girls sniffing cocaine on glass tables in low-cut dresses and drinking expensive liquor that you cant even pronounce.

Addiction is not a “quirk” that you can add to characters in your fan-fiction, to make them tragedy.

Addiction is that feeling of relief when your paycheque comes in, even if its supposed to pay your rent.

Addiction is watching your face hollow out, following suit with your mind.

Addiction is telling your friends and family that it’s “just allergies”, even though you have sounded stuffed up all-year round.

Addiction is that look of disapproval and pity the volunteers at the drug clinic give you, as you throw your used needles into that yellow bio-hazard box, and reluctantly take a pack of 10 new clean ones.

Addiction is sitting in 7 day detox programs, writing out a 90 day recovery plan, and praying that you can actually stick to it. Praying.

Addiction is lies.
Addiction is feelings of shame.

Drugs were supposed to be fun.

They used to help you break down those social barriers, although ironically enough, now you couldn’t care less if you didn’t see another person ever again for the rest of your life.

On the inhale.
You feel your heart pump faster.
Your blood speeds through your system.
You feel feelings of euphoria you didnt know were possible.

On the exhale.
You realize thats another $50 dollars gone.
You remember that thing you had to do yesterday that you slept through.
You remember the cracking in your mothers voice when you picked up the phone and told her you weren’t coming home again.

You remember what you had. You remember what you lost.

Drugs can take you to other worlds, much different than our own.

But they will never take you to a world that mirrors what life was like before.

—  “Writing And Other Drugs” by Chris Manchester (writingandotherdrugs)