It’s amazing the things that you can get away with when something looks wrong with one of your eyes, you have badly applied makeup, you’re six-foot-three and you’re accompanied by some weirdo with the front of his head shaved who looks like a cross between Gregory Hines and a Klingon on crack undergoing radiation therapy. (If you’re reading this Twiggy, I’m sorry.)
—  The Long Hard Road Out of Hell - Marilyn Manson (1998)
Addicted to addiction...

The worst part,
about being a drug addict,
is that you know you’re a drug addict.
You know,
all your excuses are bullshit.
You know,
when it’s your addiction talking,
not you.
You know,
you’re hurting those around you.
You know,
you need help.
You know,
you’re lost.
You know,
you’re lying to yourself.

sets out to be an addict.
You just,
wake up one day,
as an addict.

I usually say that,
the first time I used Meth,
I was addicted.
That’s not true.
The first time I used,
I knew,
I’d do it again.
I wasn’t addicted though.
I became an addict,
when I used to forget,
my problems,
my pain,
my anguish.
I became an addict,
when I gave my addiction priority,
over the important things,
in my life.
I became an addict,
when I lost almost everything I had,
stopped using for a while,
then picked up again.
“It’s been long enough.
I’ll be able to stop this time.
I don’t have a problem.
I was just in a bad place,
at that time in my life.”
I became an addict,
when the strength,
of my addiction,
out weighed the shame I felt,
when I looked at pictures of my kids.
At problems,
my addiction has caused.
At people,
who I have hurt.
At what I could have done,
with my time.
My money.
My family.
I became an addict,
when I looked in the mirror,
asked myself to stop.
Then put the piece to my lips,
took another hit,
and left myself behind…