We experimented each day. Lowered the smoke into the deep mine of the chest as though it were a rope with a hook at the end of it to pull the emptiness back out. We partitioned ourselves away to the dark piece by piece, did not remove the emptiness but further became it.
The mind of the addict is cunning enough to convince the body it is not dying.
Addiction is the ethereal art of forgetting that you are still here.
The difference between the addict and one who is drowning is the one who is drowning knows it.
I haven’t fed my skin to a blade for nearly a decade for fear of what I might let out.
What sleeps must one day wake, even when you sneak through your own life like a thief.
I feel ill to even think it, but I have to thank you. Some days your death is all that stands between me and a drink. There were days I went so far as to hold a bottle in my hand, but couldn’t bring myself to swallow because your name was stuck in my throat.
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