Like a prisoner counting the locking out of his freedom, so I mark out the days I fight to keep clean. Most days doing the tally feels good – I feel good knowing that with each passing hour the grip my addiction has on me loses more and more power. Some days – like today, when I have been cooped up with some bug that has me trapped in the bedroom, I cannot find the will to feel pride in counting how many bloody days I have managed not to take drugs. When I am all alone in my room, with my thoughts I think “Why the hell shouldn’t I take drugs? Who will know? Where are all the people now, who say they care, when I am all alone? What does it matter to them if I smoke a bit of meth – snort a hit of coke? Who the fuck are they to dictate how I live my life?”
These thoughts are poison. This poison lead me down the rabbit hole for many years. Selfish thoughts. A foolish belief I was not accountable to anyone, yet they dictated my whims even though they weren’t present – weren’t there in the dark, and the boredom. I could feel their disapproval, feel their sadness, their disappointment. But there was something worse…
…knowing for the most part that they were busy with their own lives, and weren’t focused on me or my self-imposed insecurities and aspersions and critiques. They were busy getting on with living, while I stagnated in a cesspool of sex and drug addiction. Like I didn’t matter. Like I didn’t exist.
You can’t wait for the people to come to you, you have to go to the people.
I am so alone.
© Dave Luis 2012. All Rights Reserved.