Addict

Hello my name is Manda.. and I'm an addict. I'm addicted to my depression. I'm addicted to drugs and alcohol. I'm addicted to sex. I'm addicted to pain. And I can no longer pretend that my addiction is hurting only me.

I recently fell apart and had 2 people there to help pull me back together. I can barely manage to look them in the eyes. I am ashamed. I don't want them to see me less than what I am. Scratch that. I don't want them to see me as I really am. I am an addict. I am pathetic and I have let my life slip through my fingers.

I look down at myself and see the ruins of a life that could have been. I look in the mirror and I see the eyes of someone who has seen immense sorrow. And yet, I wonder, was there ever really a good cause for that sorrow? I have not had a hard life. I have not been beaten. I don't have some tragic, incurable disease. I have not lost a limb. I am not disabled in any way other than my mind is toxic to itself. It's almost like I have that disorder where your blood doesn't recognize itself and starts attacking your body. That is what it feels like in my head.

I have so much to be thankful for in my life. I have great friends, two of which I owe my life to. I have a rather functional family. I have happy pseudo children, my brothers and sister. They function well and are growing up to be damn fine people. I have a damn good paying job. And yet, nearly every time I look in the mirror all I can see is the darkness... and it is my old friend. No one has been there to comfort me in my hours of need like the darkness.

And yet the darkness has been a cruel master, always leaving me yearning a little bit more. I've always wanted to slip just a little farther inside, yearning to be more distant and more cold. If I could simply turn off the emotions then I could stop the hurt. If I can't feel love then I can't feel it's loss. If I can't feel happiness then I can't feel sadness. And I couldn't be more wrong.

The darkness was full of an infecting sadness like no other, a dark, toxic disease that seeps into the depths of a soul and consumes from the inside until all you're left with is a hollow shell of the person you used to be.

And everyone still recognizes you, because, you still look the same. You still smell the same and if you're good, you still act mostly the same. A few of the really observant ones can see the sadness in your mask. A few will ask you what's up and be concerned, but they are quickly dissuaded by your convincing line of bs. And if they aren't convinced they are too lazy or too overwhelmed to push the issue.

You know you're real friends because they know you're in hell and are willing to put on the waders and come in after you. You may not recognize them and you may fight against them. You need this darkness to kill the need inside of you. You are convinced that if you simply stay here long enough they will forget that you were there. They will leave you alone and then no one will see the darkness that has surrounded you. It's a false sense of a camouflage.

And if you're lucky they will still come for you. They will beat you senseless and drag you out despite your kicking and screaming. They will throw you in the shower and wash away the mud and the darkness and towel you off. They will feed you and hold your hand and watch you while you cry. And once you're clean enough again to remember where you are, all that's left is the shame. They have seen you like this and there is no excuse. No reason for you to be so addicted to the darkness.

It doesn't matter how many people you've lost, because all people die. Deal. It doesn't matter that you were raped, all people are taken against their will in same way or another. Deal. It doesn't matter that you're just sad. Deal. Just put on your fucking big girl panties and deal. Life isn't that hard. It is doable. So many people who are so much worse than you manage to deal and function.

What is your fucking problem? Really? Why can't you get out of bed? Why can't you be happy with what you have? Why can't you just wake up and smell the god damned roses? They are there, looking at you, asking... why won't you just give in and smell us? We are here, for such a short time, just smell us.

And I look in the mirror and see the rabbit hole I've crawled out of and I see the roses and my friends and life happening without me. I see it all around me like I'm stuck in a glass box, always watching never feeling, never experiencing. So I take my blade and I cut and the only color in my box is the red of the blood that falls and I see everyone around me living their lives. I feel like I'm drowning. And inside my box no one can see me because I'm in the box. No one has a key and it's like I'm on display. Look at the pretty post modern barbie, overweight and out of control. And no one sees that I'm hollow and rotten on the inside.

So I take my pills and I drink my booze and I cut my skin and I'm an addict. And it hurts the people I love most because I don't know how to let them help me and I don't know how to let them in. Because I'm dead inside and nothing will kill the voice.

My name is Manda and I'm an addict. And I've been sober for 3 hours.