From the Edge of Insanity

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 VANIC X K.Flay- Make Me Fade

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The S#!t They Forgot to Mention:  My Addiction Playbook

Once an addict, always an addict. Pick your poison, but pick wisely my friend. Some may seem more admirable, socially acceptable, and pleasurable.  Don’t be a fool, You FOOL; why being an addict involves not 1 of these 3 things.

Not all addicts are liars, thieves, homeless, trouble, belligerent, mentally-ill, dirty low-life criminals at rock bottom. More often than not, the sickest addicts are the  people writing your prescriptions, teaching your children about life, opening the door for you, or working in your local government and PTA trying to fight the current drug epidemic. Fucking Hypocrites. Cowards.  

I mean don’t you think if one of them were to actually stand up and pull the wack out of their ass and be REAL about their personal struggles with addiction that maybe more people would be inspired to get clean or at least start talking more about it. I mean, who the fuck can relate or EVEN wants to relate to an in predictable, sombrero wearing begging toothless homeless man rambling on about some government conspiracy or people dressed like goats following him and other wack-ass shit. Eating peoples faces mid-day, in PUBLIC! or  shooting into crowds of innocent people afterward claiming the messiah told them to do it.. What the Fuck are addicts fucking hallucinating cannibalistic zombies now?  Would you like fries with that face? Never to be seen again. POOF! I’d rather suffer from drug dependency alone in silence rather than be any of those socially unacceptable Lepers.  Fuck No.  I’m straight off looking like a looney tune or weak mentally ill-whatever that would enslave and isolate my lonely existence far greater than just keeping my fucking mouth shut and going through the day-to-day like a good little robot, I mean person. 

No wonder I didn’t line up to admit I’m a tweaker... 

Oh no no no no, first thing that most of the people I cared about (or thought I cared about) did when the first whispered rumor (not even confirmed by me) cause I’m so fucking scary to talk to... right? without a word, POOF like a fart in the wind they disappeared, like a fucking fart riding the tail-end of a twister. Gone. Ouch. See if I show up to their weddings, child births, backyard cage matches, or whatever the fuck those “true friends” that will always have my back and hold my hand through the hardest part of my entire life, ya whatever the fuck they want my support for. Nope. Dope does that to people, makes them run scared lol, both the user and anyone within a whispers reach.

Being addicted to anything at all is extremely disabling.  You ain’t going anywhere until you’re over the very thing that you’ve somehow magically convinced yourself you will die without.  It consumes a decent amount of that little inner monologue people have all day with themselves in their head (or wherever that voice lives), it eventually disrupts daily life, income, focus, energy, phhhshhhh who the fuck am i kidding you have to get over the one thing you fear living without.  Talk about moving mountains  That’s like saying oh you like breathing...? Feels nice right taking those deep breaths in with confidence that as long as youre breathin you’ll continue living. Then someone comes along and says no no no you’ve got it all wrong... Let me hold your head under water while you do that breathing and you’ll really be living! What the fuck, no way that goes against every primal instinct to survive, right?  Breathe under water and you will die.... yes? Live without the one drug (for lack of a better word ;) that makes your life truly come to life, more exhilarating than any rollar coaster, bringing you feeling of inspiration, motivation, and the levels of nirvana that Ghandi teaches. Ya live without all that and you might as well die. Life after meth comes in dull shades of grey and boring boring boring, depression, pain that i have no clue it’s origin or whereabouts, but fucking hurts more than any physical wound I’ve ever had. It’s like my soul aches for that level of life again. To exist I have to be existing at that high level of existence to even notice the beuaty in life. It’s like moving from the bleachers to behind home base, where all the action is.

Nothing in this life will every be as bright, smell as scrumptious, or taste as rich as the first time I met my 2-faced frenemy Crystal Meth. That backstabbing little bitch. Fucking thieving liar, take it all Meth just fucking take everything why don’t you. 

Oh, what was that...? Wait, Meth Did you say that if I forgive you this last time, you’ll never hurt me again...?? Oh and sealed with a promise too....? Some kind of sheltered chump I was, straight rookie. Fell for the promise every fucking time. Truth be told... Meth taught me a vluable lesson in life. Some people/things don’t possess or have the baility to possess goodness, no matter how much I wanted to believe that there’s good in everything and everyone. Nope. Some things and people were put on this earth and in our lives strictly to harm us. Never benefit, just harm. Wow. Kind of made me question if there really is a “God” or whatever you call your faith.... etc. etc. 

For what good is faith if some people and things cannot posses it at all. Period. Not happening. So that’s it?? Really...? Black hole, no beautiful sun to harvest faith, flowers, fucking anything. True story.  Meth taught me demons are real.. scratch that Meth showed me what pure evil really looks like, feels like, is made of and not made of.  

The nurse picked up the phone, “What seems to be bothering you..?” 

“I think my ex was trying to take my soul.....”