Junkie

Would you like to know what addiction is like?

You open your eyes and sunlight is already streaming through the window.  For the eighth day in a row you've missed your alarm and woken up late.  As soon as you take your first breath you're assaulted by a tightening in your chest.  You're terrified and you have no idea why.  A whimper escapes your lips and you bury yourself underneath your covers closing your eyes and wishing the world away.

This is your first defeat.

Hours of broken sleep follow.  Time is passing faster and faster, but you still haven't accomplished any of the goals you set for yourself the previous evening.  At this point, you're not too concerned about your failures; you're not concerned about anything but making the fear lodged in your chest go away.  Late in the afternoon after nearly fifteen hours in bed the fear leaves you.  You get up.

The house is empty.  Your roommates, flatmates, family, strangers - everyone - they're all gone.  At least you can be comfortable alone, but the last thing you need is to be alone.  When you light that first cigarette of the day, sitting on the front step, your mind is filled with thoughts of failure.  You're a failure.  Your life is a failure.  You're nearly in tears.

This is your second defeat.

Heading back inside you make a beeline for the fridge.  Your entire body feels weak and you're not that hungry, but you know you must eat.  Nearly fifteen minutes are spent staring into the fridge wondering what you can stomach.  Two forkfuls of plain, cold rice left over from the previous evening and you can't eat anymore.  You collapse on the sofa in the living room with your face buried in your hands.  The TV's still on from last night.

You know you need to distract yourself from the thoughts in your head.  The yearnings.  You try to watch the TV but instead stare blankly at the screen lost in your own mind.  You want someone to justify your actions, but you don't want anyone to know what you're thinking.  If they knew you might be locked up.  Rehab doesn't feel like an option.  Rehab is death.  Facing up to what you know is wrong feels like death.  All you want to do is to escape - just one more escape and maybe life will seem brighter in the future.  Junkies are eternally optimistic.  Tomorrow will be better.

You get in your car to go to the pharmacy.

This is your third defeat.

Inside the store you make another beeline straight for the drugs you're looking for.  You're eying the shelves from far away, picking out the familiar boxes of over-the-counter medications you can use to get away.  Paranoia sets in.  You don't want to browse the shelves like a normal shopper - give me the pills and get me the f**k out of here.  This is your sixth time buying the same pills in the last eight days.  Have they noticed yet?

The cashier's sweet smile makes you uncomfortable.  Does she know about the euphoria purposely overdosing these medications provides?  It doesn't matter.  Pay the woman, get the f**k out.  Run.  Run far.

You attempt to act normal and ask for a pack of cigarettes.  She hands you the wrong brand, but you don't say a word.  If you correct her, you'll be in here longer.  It's hard not to scream.  You pay her and walk as fast as you can back to your car, your head ducked.

This is your fourth defeat.

You pull back into your driveway and your roommate is there.  Jam the pills in your pocket.  Do it now.  Don't let him know.  Smile.  People will trust you're okay as long as you smile.

Barricade yourself in your room, do it now.  You need to do it now.  Just get away from it now.  Run.  Now.

Your fingers expertly break open the blister packs and drop the pills onto your pillow.  You swallow them greedily enjoying the sweet coating on them.  Don't worry, it's almost over.  Don't worry, the world is going to shine again soon.  Just don't worry.

The terror is back - that tightness in your chest and stomach are suffocating.  How the f**k did you get this way?  This is so pathetic.  Your life is pathetic.  You've just dosed yourself for the umpteenth time.  You swear this is the last time.

The warmth of the pills spreads over you and your pupils dilate.  Finally.  Everything is melting away.  You're free.

This is your final defeat.

This is your life.

This was over before it began.

Author's Note

My honest portrait of what it is like to be chemically dependent.

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[_mal]

Sending hugs. I hope you’re not riding this one anymore