As Told by An Addict

Hiding behind a substance just may be the solution...At least that's what he said.

Dreaming in a victimized state...

 

With just a spoon full I can be the President or even fly to the moon. What an ironic statement. Just years ago that same utensil provided a great bill of health. Nowadays it leaves me with the droppy lip like my early ancestors when the noose had been tied too tight.

 

I am now apart of a secret society. Surrounded by people with similar desires. The beginners of this ancient bloodline would be so proud to see that I remain linked to my very own, without a chain to keep me close...that’s right!! I am here by will and not by force.

 

As I look at the back of my eyelids, I can see everything elevating with every minute that goes by. This must be what being God feels like. Who are you to tell me otherwise? This is my f*****g world!! I pick and choose whom I share it with…similar to a curious schoolgirl in her recreational stages before becoming a full-blown prostitute. Except me selling is no option. I am the buyer here.

 

We just lost one of our own the other day. She sat motionless. She felt so cold. I falsely accused her absence of life for being a little under the weather. Instead she had become weathered. Decomposing as the time went by. I did all I could to refrain from getting too emotional. Understanding that our lifestyle is not excused from some of the same outcomes the less fortunate my experience.

 

I will pray for the norm tonight. For they know not of what they are missing. Sure I would turn my back on this way of life if everything operated counter clockwise. Even then I would come back around.

 

The sober has no chance in this present time. So I remain doped up to see not in the eyes of the Supreme Spirit of all evil. When my eyelids are heavy, the picture is never clear. Therefore our connection is far from genuine. Let my mother tell it, the Devil is the father I never had.

 

She has every right to feel bitter after retiring from her past experiences of sunshine with a combination of rainfall on the regular basis. Momma should have married the fix. Oh how happy she would have been. No worries Momma, I made it my lady and life is good.

Reviews

[TheSweet]

Very good use of creativity, it actually makes you think rather than giving all the information and I could hear a good narrative voice as if I was being told the story rather than reading it.

It's always interesting to see people's perspectives on it, even characters. I would say that the continuous block of writing is somewhat distracting though, perhaps it could be broken up a little or at least paragraphed. Thanks for sharing :)

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Sir E, Bravo! I was fixated during this entire piece. I was once addicted to alcohol and it owned my soul. Yet, I kept returning to it time and time again for that fix. That fix to make the world go away so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain of the past and the present. That fix, fixes us alright...........it destroys. Wonderful story.

[Liza]

the intensity expressed of an addict is the rigid hold of extremes

[Kenneth The Poet]

Trainspotting, that is what I see here.

[Ki]

This is lovely!!! I actually am very interested in addiction fiction; it's fascinating. You definitely did this hard to pull off genre justice. Awesome write!