Today was a hard day at work. I went into a room with a patient that I knew beforehand is a heroin addict. I tense at just the word “heroin”. But go in to do my job anyway. Her arms were covered in track marks and when I stuck the needle in her self-inflicted, bruised vein, her eyes rolled back like she was getting off from it. She was bugging out her entire stay at the office. Pacing, speaking too fast, rocking back and fourth and just obviously overdue for her next injection.. lucky us she came in relatively sober today.. Wednesday she could hardly stand up straight or keep her eyes open.
John, I know heroin addiction is the hardest one to recover from; not there there really is a recovery from it.. you’d always fight the urge but it’d get easier with time right? It’s 2 am and Im wide awake thinking about that woman and the fact she has a kid, someone to look after. Yet her and her husband both have fresh track marks down their arms and that’s just so fucking sad. And then I think about you.
John I can’t help but to wonder if you were ever really addicted to heroin because I’ve never seen or heard you so strung up on it that before. I’m starting to think it was your depression and intrusive thoughts that just told you that was the only way you could ever be happy and that just fucking kills me.
Just thinking those things had me break down just like the first time I heard what happened to you 4 years ago. And I just want to see you in my dreams again so I can just see you smile