Out of cigarettes once again. Nothing on T.V., and the pen and paper don't seem to want to work together. It is always bad when I can't even write my own thoughts on paper. I bite my knuckle till it bleeds to focus on the pain and not....the addiction. I close my eyes and see the plastic faces of people from the past few years with those hollow hearts. I think of how many bottles and baggies, pills and nights that were only lived by word of mouth the next morning. The constant feel of addiction stays with you. From one to another, from drinking, pills, to weed, to a constant crave of sex. You trade one for another. It is like a revolving door, or being lost in the woods and you find yourself walking past the same rock for the 3rd time. I soon find myself face in the carpet, not wanting to move from the floor. I become one with it and just lay there, not thinking of....you know. When people say, "Oh it is simple, you can do it", or "Oh you will be fine." Those people have no idea what an addiction is, how it feels, what it does to you physically and emotionally. They think they do, but they have no clue. The people I hurt, the things I said, they way I was, the pain I did to myself, I just can't believe. You can forget you're past, but don't you ever shut the door on it, because it will keep on knocking till it breaks down the door. Addictions never go away; you can ask any addict that. You can only control it, playing the little game of right and wrong with you're mind. You either win and not take that drink or you lose and are back in the same spot you hate the most. The constant headaches, the smell of vomit on you're shirt, the feeling that makes you think you are powerless and weak because of a damn bottle and its contents. Friends and family don't want to talk to you; dealers and shooters look at you and say, "Damn you look like shit." It’s that revolving door again, I seem to enjoy going through. I get up from the floor and start walking through the house, listening to the floors creak, and the house settle. I open up the fridge for the third time in an hour, knowing what the hell is in there. I do anything and everything to just keep my mind off....it. I try to write, read or watch T.V., things I enjoy to do, and I do them now to just fill up time. To keep me from thinking of....it. This is a cycle that never seems to end; eventually it is going to be me or...it. It has beaten me before on many occasions, its time for me to get a win in. Sooner or later I will realize I am tired of being sick and tired. I am tired of waking up with the taste of stale beer and vomit caking the insides of my mouth. But that is the price you pay when you go too far, when you got to be the life of the party, or to show you can out drink the rest of them. But they already know all that, so they ignore it and soon I find myself waking up from a black-out, dry-heaving in a backyard. I am sick of that shit you know? I am tired of every time I am out, I HAVE to grab a 6 pack of beer. I am sick of all night listening to Cash and Willie, drinking all the beer and then finding anything else in the fridge to keep me hammered while sitting in the dark alone. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Another lesson to save in my back pocket. I eventually got tired of being tired and have found a way out. By no means has it been easy, it has been a tough, bumpy road that can only get smoother and easy in time. I see my faults and have begun to make amends to who I am. I am a mystery within a box an ex told me a couple years back. Well that box is beginning to slowly fall apart with each step I complete. I am seeing who I am, and that I don't need drugs and drinking to make me whole. All I need is family, friends, God and some luck and I promise you that will get you through anything. Like my father said, "Don't watch it happen, make it happen." Just like Cash, I forever walk the line.
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