To sleep with a murderer

The Addicts plea

When you’re in a terrible country and want to go out to sea in hopes of finding better land, It’s impossible to ignore the possibility that you could just be stuck at sea, spending your remaining days with nothingness. Sometimes it’s easier to just swim to the land you won’t die getting to.. That’s how it can feel. How could I not eat the apple, when there’s nothing else to eat. The deal with the devil.  No, I didn’t want poison, but I wanted food. I yearn for food.

No it’s not quitting that’s hard, it’s the life afterwards. To deny something a part of me wants, in order to get something I may never get. To possibly be left with the nothingness of the sea. It’s like, why does doing things beneficial for your life have to make you feel dead? 

Though, I will go out to sea nonetheless. I’d rather live a stale boring life, than engage in an addiction any longer. I’d rather choose death. Even if I don’t feel alive, I can no longer afford to be friends with a murderer 

It is these addictions that have turned so many miracles into tragedies. Seeing how it’s destroyed so many people. Literally. I absolutely can’t. I don’t even blame them as much as I blame their addiction. It really makes sense now; how a child of an alcoholic can either grow to be one, or grow to be someone who never touches it ever. To become its next friend, or hate its guts. Well I must hate every addiction. Not just for my own sake, but for the amount of relationships out there it has destroyed, how much faith it has destroyed, I cannot be friends with a murderer.  I absolutely cannot. Even though I might find temporary relief or pleasure from this thing, I can’t ignore the widespread pain and suffering it causes to loved ones or even to strangers. The cycle shows no mercy. I cannot stand for it. I hate it.

I no longer want to succumb to the thing I know spends its free time killing others. To be the devil’s helper, to be complicit in something that hurts so many. To be a part of it in any way. I will no longer sleep with a murderer.

And I’ll die for this resolve. Because it’s for so much more than me. It’s the plague. It feels like God is sending the plague; and asking, asking how many people need to die before I realise, this isn’t the way to live?

The more I go without it, the more I try to replicate the feeling; and that always ends destructively. With so many people suffering the same way. For the same thing.  It’s not my responsibility, but I can’t allow it to keep on happening. I cannot allow this cycle to continue till the end of time. But I can’t stop it if I’m in it. So not only must I abandon the pure desire that grew toxic, I must accept that pure desire may never come; a reality that feels like death.