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The Life of an Addict
The only light that enters the room is from a rusty old lamp. A man sits alone on a musty sofa. Its springs erupting from its once comfortable well knitted seats. The smells that ooze from it are a mixture of piss, alcohol, and throw up. The man is staring at a small round mirror that’s atop of the rickety maple table its finish faded long ago. Looking back is a thick white line accompanied by the silhouette of a pale frail man. His skin wrapped tightly around bones that make up his unshaven face. Dark circles are formed under his eyes. His nostrils partnered with dried blood and white powder. He’s not smiling, not now. The depression is setting in again. The feeling of worthlessness crowds his thoughts. His only friend whispers out to him, saying he is the only one that can make him feel worthy and happy again. However, that’s what it’s always said ever since the beginning.
It’s Friday night and one of my friends from the football team is having a party at his house. At first, I was thinking of not going, but it has been a hard week and being able to get away from it all would be welcomed change. I show up, cars and people are everywhere. I enter the house and try to navigate through the crowd. I’m saying hi to people as John shouts my name from the back of the room. I follow him to the kitchen and grab a beer as I say hello to the guys. I walk out to the living room and make eye contact with one of the cute blonde cheerleaders across the room. I go up and woo her with my charm. I end up taking her to a room.
About an hour later, I go outside to see what’s going on by the pool. A guy makes his way over to me. I’ve never seen him before but he seems a little old to be at a high school party. As he reaches me, he offers up the question if I would like to feel euphoric or not. I nod and he hands me a bag, written on it is the letter C. I ask him what I’m supposed to do with it and he shows me. I follow and feel my eyes dilate as they roll to the back of my head. A few seconds later, I start to feel invincible, and all the troubles of the week and everything else that has been going array in my life seems to fade away the world is good again. I look next to me as a person I don’t know grabs the bag out of my hand and smiles at me as he snorts some of it. He rubs the white off his nose and sticks out his hand to introduce himself. His names Andrew and he’s my new best friend.
The feeling of being invincible has faded and I feel terrible. I sit down next to the pool and realize that the world is even harsher then it was just a half hour before. By the time I reach my bed I crash, I don’t wake up until Late Sunday evening. I slowly roll out of my bed thinking of Friday night. I scrounge through my jeans in search of the bag labeled C. I don’t find it, but I know I want some. I call up John and ask him who the older guy was; he doesn’t know who I’m talking about so I ask him if he knows Andrew. He does and he gives me his number. I look at the clock and realize it’s too late to call someone I don’t know very well.
I wake up Monday morning to my nagging alarm clock. I make it too school and realize that Andrew’s in front of me. I walk up, and introduce myself again. He remembers me and asks what’s up. I ask him if he knows the guy that gave us the bag of C. He replies with a yes and say’s that his names Alex. He promises me that we can go meet him after school. The day seems to linger on for years, finally the final bell rings and I rush outside to see Andrew waiting for me by his car. He asks me if I have any money I reply with of course.
We’re alone in Andrews’s apartment. It’s a nice place; I ask him how he affords it. He replies with his parents are rich and pays for him to stay here. That’s cool I say back as I take a snort. My heart starts to race, my eyes widen, and my breathe gets heavy. I feel great and start to scream at the top of my lungs. Andrew joins in. A little while later I’m back to feeling like crap and reach for the bag. As Andrew and I finished the bag we sat back smiling and telling each other how everything in our lives are fantastic.
I arrive home around five and go up to my room. I notice I have a few missed calls. I listen to them, and remember that I forgot football practice. I freak, but only for a second. Missing one practice never hurt anybody right?
A week later, I meet up with Andrew again, and ask him if he wants to go see Alex, he agrees but says his mom and dad won’t give him anymore money. I say that’s fine, but since that’s the case I’ll have to stop by my house first. I go upstairs into my parent’s bedroom and grab a couple of my mother’s expensive diamonds, and whatever else that I can sell. It leads me to feeling good about myself for a couple hours before I realize I’m out of the good stuff. I go back home and see what else I can sell so I can get some more flake. I end up selling my pads, my 360, and my TV.
I get together with Andrew almost every day now. I stop going to football practice, it’s just not fun anymore. I don’t go home because there’s nothing there for me. I stop going to school because I feel like I’m being judged every time I walk through the door. The only one that understands me is Andrew. I live with him now; we take turns buying the bags of C. My parents try calling along with my friends from school. I never answer; none of them mean anything to me anymore, just the bags of C.
The apartment begins to look bare, this stuff gets expensive. We’re only left with a table, a rusty lamp and a couch that we carried up from the trash. It looks good when we’re on blow, but looks crappy as h*ll when we’re off it. I look down, I haven’t slept for a while, neither has Andrew.
I look across the room to see Andrew lying on the floor, his arms normally twitch but they’ve stopped. I don’t see him reaching for anymore blow; I haven’t for a while now. I’m pleased that means more for me.
The thick white line calls out to the man, His body wants it, and who is he to deny it. He goes to lower his head, but the room starts to spin out of control. He blinks making the light in the room go off and on, off and on. The third time through the room stops but two creatures with wings have made their way into his vision. He blinks again and they turn into thousands of creatures circling around him. A battle begins.
The man looks closer and see’s two different self’s. One good and one evil, each of the winged creatures has his face. He leans in for a better view and finds that two things separate them. One is a young handsome angel dressed in white armor and the other is a slightly older hideous demon dressed in black armor. The angel throws the demon to the ground and raises his sword to end the demons life, but the man notices pictures in the reflection of the demons armor. He squints and sees a man at a party. He recognizes the boy, he’s still innocent. He watches as the boy walks outside to the pool. The boy and the angel are standing next to each other now. The angel stretches out his hand holding a bag labeled C. Suddenly the armor flashes and the man sees many pictures of the boy and the angel standing next to each other, each time the angel is calling out to him with a bag of C close by. Eventually the angel is their reminding him of the bag even when it’s not around. He sees the boy fall from having everything to him sitting on a couch.
The armor flashes again and the man focuses on the angels face. The angel turns to look at the man. Its face contorts as it screams that the man is not good enough, that the man needs him. But the man retaliates and screams back that he’s better without him. The man continues to scream about all that it has taken away from him. The man shuts his eyes as if to will the angel away. He opens his eyes to notice that the winged creatures in front of him are changing. The angel’s light fades into darkness, its armor showing the fall of the man’s life. The demons darkness brightens until he’s filled with light, its armor showing the man all the good that can enter his life again. The newfound angel gets up and cuts the demons head off. It rolls to the man’s feet.
Looking up at him is a pale frail man. His skin is wrapped tightly around his unshaven face. Dark circles form under his eyes. His nostrils partnered with dried blood and white powder. The face fades into the background of the mirror. A white line makes its way to the front of the mirror. The man screams and throws the mirror across the room shattering it against a wall. He stands up, and looks towards the door. He slowly makes his way toward it. As he opens the door and sets foot into the light, he smiles.