Warmth withdrew from my veins as a chilling presence of psychological discomfort eludes from my mind and completes my body with thoughts that linger in my consciousness. I lean up from my laying position on my bed to soothe myself yet another night. Dope sickness isn't a jest. I was experiencing another round of this internal feeling of guilt of lusting over this toxic liquid. Even with the influence of my momma's last dying wish seems to not create a barrier between me and the Beast. Man vs. Self was what this battle was and every time, It wins. After every attempt to clean my body up, I remain in step one of the process, it never gets easier to quit either. All she wanted was her only child to succeed through all the milestones of a regular, "normal" teenager…all she wanted was to see me sober and intrigued with life again. My views on life are altered and will continue as long as this addiction prevails. What is considered normal in society is not the definition of where I stand. Outcasted by everyone around me just because I chose to depend on a substance that I NEED…or at least what my judgment wants.
I'm cultivated but addiction grasps me at my weakest points. I cannot even explain why I continue to let myself be afflicted by this bully. It embraces me in comforting hugs of toxic dependency. A sort of temporary love that fooled me into thinking it would give me unconditional love forever. Truth behold, the drug isn't concerned about me. It wants to see me at a constant struggle and watch me suffer through reality. Every move I make sends sharp, agony throbs up my spine and into my cranium. My body is heavy from the sickness that possesses my physical being. It's tormenting and leaves me drastically exhausted. I enter the bathroom to be greeted by the lonesome creature in the mirror. Pale yet greyish toned with frail limbs and a shaking presence. She smiles as she sees the misery in my eyes.
"Time to go shoot up again." She hastily whimpers out. My body shakes from the light breeze flowing in my apartment, I already feel the sickness bring out the cold sweats.
"I don't wan-"
"Did I fuckin' ask you what you wanted? This is what I want!" She cuts me off. "You know you love that euphoric highhh…" She drags out the word, taunting my morals and fixating my thoughts right back into the sea of darkness. On autopilot, I leave my brute personal behind in the reflections as I start yet another cycle of heavy usage. I rip open the new pack of sterilized needles and tie my arm with a rubber band. I prepare the mixture feeling the urges of wanting that rush to finally hit me. Tapping the glass, I rotate my arm forward and out from my body and look at the suffocating piece of flesh I was about to stab with a foreign object. I take a few breathes before piercing myself and as soon as I got it in, I press my poison from my needle into my bloodstream. An immediate rush of ecstasy shoots through my system and I fall back against the couch, the dirty needle still in my right hand, my left arm still held out in a frozen position. My eyes roll back and I soak into the chemical mania as it takes over.