“Users are looking for oblivion; they want the drug to dull their senses…” – Sherlock Holmes [Elementary “Rat Race”]
It started off innocent enough. I was only searching for a release to end this ache. I wanted freedom from the pain that surged throughout the day & carried on into the night. I lay conscious in the midst of tears streaming from my eyes as I silently scream the torture I feel. It never ends, it never stops.
I can’t breathe. I needed an escape. I was desperate & on the verge of ending my life. I had tried multiple times staring at the knife, picturing the final moment I would have, coloring the white snow. I begged anyone listening to end this suffering.
No one listened, no one noticed, there’s no one but I who knows how this feels. There’s not a single ounce of understanding among those that say they care. They can’t see how far gone I am, because I’m beyond saving now.
All my dreams have died, all my love weak, the strength I had all used up. I can’t return to my home because it long ago stopped being that. The yelling, the anger, have placed rage & hate in what’s left of this damaged heart.
Everyone needs me, they want me, but I feel as if there’s a clasp on my mouth, bolted shut stopping me. I pound against the window showing me everyone, for someone to help me. I need help, I need someone. I need not want.
It started out when the relaxed feel swept me over, at the time it only took 2 pills a day, then 3, then 4, now it’s doubled. The calming sensation allows me to make it each day I wake up. It keeps me sane from the world that I live in, trapped in. The escape is among the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt.
I know nothing else that can compare, not even love or happiness. The drugs soothe this ache I live with each day. I can bare the people around me & for those few hours I don’t feel like I’ll break into hundreds of pieces. My knees don’t weaken, I no longer feel light headed from the stress, & I can’t even think.
I’ve lost myself. Wrapped in the security of the drugs I’ve found. I know using them as an escape is wrong but the ability to care doesn’t exist in my reality anymore. They still don’t know, no one knows the demons that are now one with me.
Each smile fake, each word out of my mouth another lie.
I suppose it’s better off this way. For now I’ve found a place to rest, a place I can escape to as it’s become my only home. I tried to hold back, I made it a few weeks once. Now it’s hardly a day that goes by without my craving coming, at a more intense level.
I can’t even begin to feel sorry, because they don’t know, they never noticed anything… I’m perfect, I’m the soldier who follows each order & who never the one who needs someone. I fought the temptation for two days before it began again, the sinking of this life raft. I started small this evening, maybe mixed with the others I’ll get back home.
“Unfortunately there isn’t a nice and neat ending to this tale like in the movies. But that’s what it means to be a recovering addict or alcoholic. Recovery is an ongoing, life-long process.” Drew Barrymore, Little Girl Lost