an addicts mind is one that is misunderstood.
i depise people who think they know what they're talking about when they say, "i understand what you're going through". because no, you don't.
i hate it when someone asks me, "can't you just not think about it?". because no, i can't.
i loathe when a person says, "you said yourself you were stonger than that". because, sometimes, i'm not.
you cannot identify yourself with me until you stick a needle in your arm and feel the rush go through your veins, and then up to your head, and then down to your heart, and you catch a glimpse of heaven. or take a hit from a pipe, or rail a line, and feel the euphoria settle in.
how hard it is to stay away, when everything you know screams it's name.
i don't mean literally, i mean metaphorically.
when i party, i want a rail. cuz a party aint a party without some blow.
when i have sex, i want a hit. cuz sex aint sex without some tina.
it drives me fucking insane.
i'm sober though... fuck that, right?
if it were all so simple baby, i wouldn't be writing this.
don't fret. i'm not back tracking.