Making New Waves: A Change from the Undertow of Addiction

“In the waves of change, we find our true direction.

Change can hit us hard. Sometimes it’s unexpected, and rolling with the punches is the best way to deal with it. In the midst of the chaos though, there’s a light.

It grows, from dim to bright. The unrecognizable becomes clear, and finding that new direction brings along a feeling that is pure.

Change is something we all experience, but the way we get over the hurdles is where the difference stands. How do you break though and find the right path?”

September 2009

I am at the point where I want to shoot up everything I can, and I nearly have. But deep down, past my addicted Self, lies a child-like soul, who cries after each needle breaks skin; who regrets the day it had been curious enough to try it; Stupid enough to let someone stick me the first time; Blind to how toxic that relationship had been; insane to do it again after two years of being off of it.

My soul is an apathetic stranger who now, like everyone else, avoids me when we pass on the sidewalk.

I am forever under the influence of a mind-altering substance, simply because I couldn’t hack it in their world. The “real” world, they call it. What a joke. Their “real” world full of people who lie, cheat, and hide away their selfish agendas. They’re your friend when nobody is looking, but then soak you in deep humiliation if others are watching, or vice versa.

Alcohol made it easier to walk among these people. Good things always have side effects though. It made me become all of these. That is, except a cheater. From friends betraying and girlfriends cheating, I’ve felt that dark pain and continue holding onto it as a reminder to never, ever allow myself to be the cause of someone suffering from it. If alcohol made it easy to live in that world, it was the drugs that let me escape it. A vacation or temporary break from the feeling of another’s agony of not being their true self amongst peers. I hadn’t realized alcohol was a drug. And drugs brought the worst side effects.

During these brief vacations from what they call “reality,” I was shown another world, and each drug would show you a varying amount of their world of pleasure, bliss, and being entirely content with who I was. Governments, who have done and continue to perform secret atrocities that convince everyone the world is black and white, and make it okay—even encourage you—to lie, cheat, and step on whomever is in your way of getting a small sliver of what is known as “The American Dream.”

Now, money, materials, and possessions are what we want. They are what keeps the world turning. What we have in materials determines our status. That is your “real” world, as it spins and spins in the cosmos.

I didn’t want to live in that world anymore.

The waves that control that world are not like the peaceful waves you’d see breaking, crashing, and washing up soft, dark sand on a hidden beach. However, they share the common repetition. Our moon controls the tides in the world. The world is mostly made of water, as is the human body, therefore, everything comes to us in waves—the highs, lows, sickness, luck, pain, anger, anxiety, etc. Even as you trip on a hallucinogenic substance, which are known to expand your mind, the trip comes and goes in waves. But I wasn’t ready for my addiction to come at me in a massive, unexpected tidal wave, while I stood there, allowing it to destroy every part of me.

I wanted the wonderland that drugs had initially shown me. I wished to be there forever. And I got what I wished for, unfortunately.

Just like the lie of the last world being the “real” world, the world I was shown had only been an illusion. It’s where I’m forever trapped now. A world of suffering, torment, and constant thoughts of suicide. It isn’t even a world at all, only a mere plane. Europe must have experienced a massive heroin epidemic back when they believed Columbus would sail off its edge, because that’s what it feels like. My addiction has pushed me over the edge of where its world ends and has left me dangling by my fragile fingers.

But honestly, would I rather live in the fake world I had lived before?

At least here, the pain is real.

Maybe if the real world had a few of the good things I had seen in the initial feelings that drugs had given me. Or, if people were more compassionate and not so self-absorbed. If ignorance is bliss, then that world is Disneyland.

I ask myself everyday, “Will it always be like this?

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