by Kaila Crumpley

Created on: September 11, 2008

I have a gift.
I can put myself in anyones shoes. I can feel what other feel.
Somewhere along the line I managed to convince myself that the only meaningful things in this life are the bad. I've rejected my gift, and I've gone through my days praying to feel nothing, because in the good lyes the bad, because happiness seemed meaningless with all the pain around us.

Like a coward I would pick and choose the bad things that suited me. Usually the bad things in my own life. I would ignore the absolute worst, and the absolute best, to further justify my beliefs.
Today, I can tell you without a doubt in my pretty little head, that this way of life is no longer mine. If you can make it through this article, I would hope that if this way of life is yours at the moment, it wont be when you finish reading.
It started with a dream.
I've been told that the worst thing in life is an addiction. In some attempt to protect myself I went on believing that an addict is an addict is an addict. And yet, this is not so. I've heard that the worst drug of all is heroin. To believe that an addiction to cigarettes is equivalent to an addiction to heroin is ridiculous at the very least. I never went so far to say so, but to believe that an addict is an addict is an addict, essentially says the same.
In my dream, I am an addict. Until now, I never fully understood what it was like. Why it was so hard to stop, why so many people died just to get high. But it's not that simple. Upon the first few times of 'using', the effect is different. Imagine, bathing in liquid gold, it seeps into your skin, everything within you explodes in the most wonderful way. Like god is smiling on you. Like butterfly kisses. Like a thousand times your best childhood memory. Like suddenly everything is wonderful, nothing matters besides this feeling, and you'd give everything you are, everything you have, everything you know, to make it last just one minute longer. The people that turn to hard drugs, do so because everything around them is dark, and dirty, and every memory is sickening. So imagine, what would happen, if you have a beggar a truck of gold. Eventually this feeling wears away. You'll spend the rest of you're life using just to get that first feeling back. It's like gambling, but you never win. You never get that rush back. You'll sell your things, your house, your clothes, your body, just to get enough money to keep trying. You'll still get high, but that's not what you're looking for. It's not why you're

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