Life is so easy, for everybody but me that is.
I mean, I don't want to sound like I pity myself, even though i do
But here's the thing.
How can you live a normal life when your mind is split in two.
Two thoughts, fighting each other day in and day out.
For the moment I just let them fight their fight.
Because as long as they're still fighting no choice will be made.
Sometimes though, one thought wins, or at least I let it.
That's when the addict in me takes over,
that's when I roll up that joint again, take the pill or whatever it is that makes my head go quiet for just a few hours.
And I should feel bad about it, when I relapse again.
That's what they tell me at least, but I don't.
See, the people that tell me that another relapse is bad just know one of my two fights.
See, the people who, still don't really understand what addiction means, just tell me to kick it up a notch. Try harder next time.
But those same people don't see the other fight, the one I don't talk about.
The one that can best be described as a burning desire to hug a train moving at full speed.
The one that makes me use my arms as a piece of sketch paper, just in case I do decide to slit my wrists.
The one that makes me pinch myself, just to be sure it's not all just a nightmare.
The one that makes me doubt if it's even worth it, to hold on for just one more day.
The one that even worse then drugs.
On those days, where my secret fight is on the winning side, those are the days I choose to let the addict win.
On those days, being an addict is the best thing that ever happened to me.
On those days, kicking myself back into the gutter is the best choice I have.
On those days, I find out again what it really means to be alone.
On those days, I'm just a depressed addict, nothing more.
On those days, all I know is what is most destructive to my life.
And on those days, that's all I want, to destroy myself and everything around me.