Inhale. Pause. Examine surroundings. Exhale. Pass it on. Giggle about something you wouldn't normally find funny. Stare at a crack on the dingy yellow wall. Feel your eyes start to sag and your heartbeat start to increase. Feel time slow down. Feel your mouth become coarse. Feel your appetite come down on you. Over-think about the past; think about the good, think about the bad. Think about what you would do to get it all back. Engage in dizzying conversation. Regret doing this.
Repeat.

This is a weapon, the most dangerous weapon there is. The gateway to Hell - what a luscious remorse. All the while I wonder what got me here. Where in life did I go wrong. I traded the promises for pot and the Bible for booze. I feel the looming presence of no self control settle over my body and I close my eyes. My conscience screams at me for what my emotions thank me. I sink back into the polyester seat and sigh in surrender. My eyes open before I realize that I wanted them to. They fix on emptiness. My thoughts go back to you again and I cringe. The weapon is in my face again. I take a drag and repeat the process. Healing in itself is a process, and this is the only one I know.