Addiction.

A drug addict goes through withdrawals.

12:45 AM. Time for another dose of my "medication".

I knew it was time even before the alarm on my phone went off.

When it's time for your dose, you can feel it.

Nausea, cold sweats, uncontrollable shaking. Those were my primary alarms. The phone was just a backup.

How do you know when you've hit rock bottom, I wonder.

Is it when you're just lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, fantasizing about your next fix for most of the day, shut off from the real world?

Or is it when you've reached the point where your own mother, who loved you dearly, can't even look at you anymore?

I don't know.

All I knew was that I needed this.

I sat up on my bed, and carefully got off of it.

As I put my body weight on my legs, they started shaking, struggling to keep me up.

Sometimes, when I'd gone too long without a hit, I'll fall flat on my face. I was lucky this wasn't one of those days.

I stumbled towards my bedroom door. As I reached it, I allowed myself to fall towards it, holding onto the doorknob with my left hand to keep me up.

In the midst of emitting a few shaky breaths, I had that occasional "Why am I doing this?" thought pop into my head.

I started feeling anxious.

I couldn't help but ponder why I was putting myself through all of this.

Then, as the anxiety turned into panic, I remembered.

I twisted the doorknob, and pulled the door open.

Stumbling once more, I proceeded towards the tiny bathroom in my apartment.

I opened the medicine cabinet, and saw my next dose waiting for me.

It was a beautiful, comforting sight.

I knew it would all be okay soon.