I am an Addict

I am an Addict.

My addiction was never like the type that's spoken about on the news, I never stole things and I was a much better person high than sober, but that's what my problem was. I needed something to make me high enough to be a good person.

You see, addiction is this horrid thing that so much of us are suffering from but so few are willing to admit to. I use to like to tell myself it wasn't an addiction because I never harmed anyone, and it never bothered anyone else. It isn't just the drugs or the booze, addiction could be anything worldly that your heart is so set upon doing, that nothing else matters. And that's a sin. My addiction had become so much more than needing to smoke every hour or so, it had become a lifestyle. I got to the point where my high was my normal, and my sober was uncomfortable and I was tripping. Because my mind, body and soul were out of co ordination.You see, I love marijuana, but I'd made it a demi-god in my life, and that's why it was wrong for me.

When I was high, man, I remember I felt like I was in touch with myself; but that was only because I liked being out of touch so much. The world moved around me slow, and everything was exaggerated, it was as if my world finally matched my insides. I am so sensitive to those around me, if you tell me your pain, I will literally feel it with you because I'm that sensitive. I loved it, and I still do, I won't lie - I miss it sometimes because it did open my mind and enhance every thing in me. Getting high was like the world being lit up, and you're mind grasping what truly was happening around you. But I don't think I was ready for things to be enhanced, or for my mind to grasp anything because essentially if you're broken, that's what it enhances when you down. Man, I hated the down. And some days, I'd keep smoking and smoking, and running and running. I basically smoked about 11 - 12 times a day, sometimes more, sometimes less, but it was so that I'd never have to encounter myself. I felt free, but it was only because I had accepted the comfort of the prison I'd created for myself.

But you know what they say, when you get home at night, and you're about to go sleep, tripping or not, you're right there in the dark with yourself. And then the black would curl around my limbs, and seep into my ears and other orifices in my face and completely take over my mind. Black, black, black. I thought about death more than anything, my own death of course, and just quitting. Because nothing seemed enough anymore, my life was a hole in the face of the earth, a void.

One day I just knew what I needed to do, that I wasn't going to let it cloud my judgment and fill my eyes, lungs, heart and mind with plumes of beautiful white smoke that left black remnants behind each day. I'm not proud of what I have done, but I'm thankful that I can say I've been there, I've experienced it, something so negative completely taking over your life.

Let me just say this, I stopped because I knew I had to, what I wanted to do for me and I believed I could do it, even though I was offered rehab. We underestimate our minds and it's ability, you need to make the choice and realize what's wrong before you can mend. And mend, you can.

Now I've just got something else, and when I lie in bed at night, and His spirit comes over me, I'm blessed, but I'm not coming down.

P.S I love my friends that smoke, because they're funny as hell to watch.