Draft | Release.

That feeling where you need a distraction. You can’t handle life’s difficulties and you’re desperate to feel something other than disappointment. You seek it from drugs, alcohol, and sex. You’re relieved momentarily but the feeling comes back with a crash. Suddenly you’re addicted to those short couple of hours that your adreneline speeds through your blood. You try to reach that high point again. And again. And again. The adreneline fades away and the excitement disappears from you. Your left laying alone. You’ve lost all of your friends. You got no future now. People tell you: you need to stop. You need to come back to reality. You can’t. You’re living in a world you’ve created, filled with hatred and evil, but that’s easily filtered out when you’ve gotten your fix of marijuana, vodka, and penetration because when you do those things, you inexplicably forget about your unemployment. You forget about your sick mother or your debt. You’ve reached that high in life, where you just. don’t. care. Then you lose your access. Your out of money, you’ve gotten a DUI, your significant other has left you. You can’t reach that high again because you’re the lowest you’ve ever been. You sit in your room. All your abandoned paraphenelia thrown about. You look at your nightstand and on top of it sits the bottles of cold medicine you’ve just bought. You take it down, 1 pill at a time, 5 pills at a time, 10 pills at a time, handfuls at a time. Your throat sore from swallowing. You lay on your bed, ready for where these little drugs take you. Ready for the release from life you’ve been searching for all this time. You’re gone.

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