Addiction is being too high to sleep, like right now.
Addiction is knowing I have to go to back to my family—I should have went back to them months ago. They needed me. Addiction is knowing I have to go back to my family, but popping a few to avoid thinking about it.
Addiction is the bitterness burning down your throat. It tastes like a lie. It tastes like approaching death.
Addiction is all the missed birthdays and holidays. There’s no excuse.
Addiction is thinking about going to your date high. Addiction is making out high turning into having sex high. Addiction is not being sure if you orgasmed last night, if you consented last night, or who the hickeys came from. Addiction is cutting dates short to go home and get high. Addiction is love not meaning much, and romance meaning nothing. Not when drugs are in the picture.
Addiction is the reason I abandoned my siblings when I should have been babysitting. Addiction is the reason I don’t remember the rest of that night. That night is a black hole in my memory, but whatever I did, it was something awful. Addiction is being in your bed, too high to sleep, watching the rhythm of the shadows in the night. Addiction is the dog sick with diarrhea because of you.
Addiction is your friends telling you to take it easy. They don’t know s*** about saving a drowning man. They can’t even swim on their own. Addiction is lying down for the rest of the party because you passed out within the first hour. Addiction is the taste of phlegm for breakfast the morning after.
Addiction is something that runs in my blood. My father was addicted to heroin. My youngest sister used to scratch her scalp until it bled. Maybe she still does. My other sister drinks too hard, as if drinking would prove something. I’ve tried a number of drugs—alcohol, weed, shrooms, LSD, Valium, love. Tolerance is a strange thing, like it gets easier to get hooked every time. It’s the most consistent thing in my gene pool. Addiction is all a broken home, an arrest record. It’s violent tendencies. It’s knowing that one of these times you will not be so lucky. One of these times, The judge won’t give you a pass. The doctor won’t be able to pump your stomach. The paramedics will not be able to keep you alive. The officers won’t let you make a phone call. The jury will have no empathy. The landlord will kick you out when your overdue rent money goes towards drugs. Your family will give up on you one of these times. Addiction is knowing that one of these times, you will not be so lucky but still going for another high (and another high and another high).
Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like this. Addiction is like th—
Because you repeat it over and over, and then you die.