Serenity Webb

My Story (part 1)

I’ll start off by saying, hi.. I’m Serenity and I am an addict. I wrote this out today on paper, but I’m going to share it here now… I am unscrewing the ends of my pen so careful not to trigger myself, why when life is so much better does my heart hurt so much? Depression and Loneliness wrap around me; as if they think their helping me. Their bodies weighing everything down… my legs feel as though I am lifting cinder blocks, one step at a time. My spirit entangled in what seems to be my past, struggling. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web, every move only solidifying it’s fate, it’s death.. The thing is, I know the people from my past don’t necessarily care about me. Yet, I appreciate those who gave me shelter, a bed even when they could barely do so for themselves, food when we all knew we didn’t have enough. Skeletal figures all surrounding a can or two of food bank beans… I’m grateful, that I had that, that wasn’t something all my people had. I loved them, I love them. Nobody, can tell me that “all an addict cares about is drugs” because I have lived in that hell first hand and we always kept who we could afloat, because we understood the alternatives. Blankets piled on concrete floors, trash of all shapes and sizes tower around me, my suitcase tucked away under a shelf that we all found outside. Praying that when I close my eyes that I’d wake up. Until the will you even live slithered away like a snake in the grass. Forget about the will, once that is gone the pain runs only to the eyes, not to be felt but only seen by those around you.Me? Nobody here understands just by looking at me that I had lost absolutely everything a human has, the people that check you over only to judge you based on how you appear to be. They’d never know, they’d never understand… They wouldn’t want too. If nobody knows just how far a person has come, if they haven’t lived with the downhill disease of addiction. HOW? Could they ever begin to understand? The smallest accomplishments are more than most, the biggest one’s are victories we may never take home again. I sit here scared of judgement by the ones closest in my life, wondering if my last slip up was the one that pushed them away or if it might be my next one. Have I already lost them? But, why? Why begin to try to understand that this isn’t easy, why? When you were lucky enough not to ever have too. I’m envious, I wish I wasn’t the character in this story, but I am! I do not know why when you are given two options that everything you’ve tried for wisps away and you’ve already made your choice. I don’t know why I ever pick up when I do, not before, during or after. I’m shackled to my addiction like a life sentence, or death.I don’t think holding all this inside me is okay, I can already feel depression and loneliness slipping off me, only to be left wondering if my relief is temporary, to find them both anchored to me. Waiting to pull me under, I wear I can hear the chain slowly unraveling as they sink under. I remember this feeling. I felt it for years and I still feel it now, screaming under water. Once you’ve faced death and survived you’d think you’d appreciate the little things in life… Sadly not everyone does, when I was actively using Fentanyl I died seven times in four years; and I still want to use. Most people would say “ you’re lucky to be alive” …