"Not An Addict" – K's Choice

Breathe it in and breathe it out
And pass it on, it's almost out
We're so creative, so much more
We're high above but on the floor

Not a wink of sleep for hours on end. My laboured breathing filled my office as I choked on the thick air. Every sense that had been dulled out was coming back to me, thick and fast. Hands shaking I reached for a tiny prescription bottle. This was the end... Fuck them all. I don't care... Anything to block out this... Thing...
Impossible to feel anything but the constant pain... The constant agony... Who gave a fuck about it? Not Cuddy... Obviously not Stacy... Not after she fucking did this to me... Stupid bitch had torn my fucking life apart... And I couldn't do anything about it...

It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side

I could argue with Wilson all I wanted. He was wrong when he told me I had problems. Everyone had problems… The vicodin made it bearable. What the fuck did they know? Did they go through days where they could barely move from the sheer agony that would accompany it? Did they know what it was like to walk barely yards without needing to stop and catch their breath? Did they know how the fucking pain affected everything I did, every choice I make... I have to weigh up the pro's and con's before I do anything. When visiting somewhere new, I have to plan in advance, make sure access is available...

The deeper you stick it in your vein
The deeper the thoughts, there's no more pain
I'm in heaven, I'm a god
I'm everywhere, I feel so hot

If you have ever experienced pain, multiple it, and concentrate it on one aspect of your body. Every step I take is unbearable. Some days I can barely move, other days I want to scream. But I can't show that. I can't let them see me hurt. Wilson once told me that for some reason... That I didn't want a healthy leg. That I wanted to be damaged so I wouldn't just be fucking bitching about people all the time... Bastard. Once he felt what I feel on a daily basis... Then maybe he might realise that I didn't ask for this to happen to me. I never wanted to become reliant on pain pills for the rest of my life... With the ever present constant danger of fucking up my liver... I don't want to be in pain... I don't want to be miserable...

It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)

Perhaps I was lying to myself… Just to make myself feel better. Maybe if I pretended that I wasn't addicted, I could lead a fairly normal life. I snorted to myself. My life was far from ordinary. I guess if it wasn't I'd just bitch all the fuccking time and never really get anything done... I never wanted to be ordinary... God that would be fucking boring... 6.6 billion people on this earth and just thinking about me, doing exactly the same fucking thing as them... I shuddered at the thought...

It's over now, I'm cold, alone
I'm just a person on my own
Nothing means a thing to me
(Nothing means a thing to me)

Life is a heartless bitch. Why should she care what I shove into my system? I know no one really cares. They are too wrapped up in their own problems. The drugs take away my pain. Besides, its not like anyone cares. It's funny... In school... You're taught the basics,; reading, writing and maths... They teach you colors, science, volcanoes and all the other worthless shit that you forget by time you get to my age. They never teach you how to live... How to love... How to die... They never tell you about pain from emotional levels to deep painful surface wounds. They never teach you how to express yourself and place you into a dark circle of conformity... Go to school, get good grades, go to college, get a job, have a family... And in the end... Die...
Perhaps death was the best option to go for right now...

It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)

Getting high off Vicodin is honestly not what I want to do with my life. I stared at the tiny pill bottle. It had wrecked my life. Now I could not go a day without it, like it was my one lifeline, the only thing keeping me going. Keeping me from the pain…

Free me, leave me
Watch me as I'm going down
Free me, see me
Look at me, I'm falling and I'm falling.

I could feel myself slipping into unquenchable agony as the giant hole in my leg began to hurt. All the things I had done to prevent myself becoming a cripple just made it worse. And vicodin was the only thing that could haul me up from falling down a slippery slope... Slowly... I tipped the contents of the bottle onto my desk... Picking one up... Breathing deeply as I knew the pain would stop soon...

It is not a habit, it is cool I feel alive I feel...
It is not a habit, it is cool I feel alive

When I take vicodin, I feel less pain… It's still there… But less noticeable. I could concentrate on other things like saving a life when I wasn't in constant pain. I think I am lying to myself again…

It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie)
I'm not an addict...

I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck. My non-judgemental friend, who has seen me through my worst hours, yet the one who always tells me that I cannot solely depend on vicodin. Maybe he is right. Maybe I am an addict. I sighed and took one tiny pill. I'll quit tomorrow, I promised myself.