Originally written October 2021. I sit here in my apartment that I can hardly afford and I wonder if there really is a future for an addict. Obviously some make it, but the majority are ran into the ground by their addictions. I remember that time of my life where I was not addicted, so full of ambition and positive energy, feeling like nothing could stop me. I think it’s the stop or rather impact that kills me the most. To be perfectly honest I loath myself. I feel weak and pathetic. I start out my mornings happy brimming with confidence I can take on the day. As I wake up and I go about my morning routine, slowly the feeling creeps into me. I see the past due bills, I see the state of my finances, the collections, the debt and worry sets in. Stress that I can smell sometimes, and I tell myself. Just one time, relieve the knot in my gut a little bit. Goes like this every time. Before I know it, it’s 4 or 6pm and I’ve only stopped because because I’m burned out. My mind completely frayed. In between sessions I distract myself with social media or fall asleep from exhaustion waking up again to repeat the process. I eat to feel better, so I order expensive food using Uber eats. Even if a bill is due tommorow and it’s the money for the bill. I eat to feel better, foods that make me fat and hate myself more. Throwing more fuel on the addiction. As evening creeps I’m, if it’s been an especially bad day lost to my vices I won’t work. I’ll feel like what’s the point, the day is over anyway. I tell myself I will clean the apartment, wash the dishes set up for the next day. Get a good start. I wake up in the morning, happy and brimming with confidence….