Baby Junkies either jump ship and learn to swim a clean life, or they drown in the syrupy tides of the Netherworld, gulping their last, pharma-contaminated breath.
Yeah sure, when it all started you were just a child. Your life was a land mine. Where was Mom and Dad? You were home alone, crawling the labyrinth of life. You blossomed into an unguided fool.
Drugs were introduced by someone who seemed not only harmless, but helpful. You were an easy target for their predatory ways.
It was a magic act. Now you see me, now you don’t. You were behind a curtain….with friends. They let you share their stage. They ~ the people and the drugs ~ took you away from your anxiety and depression. States of being, that you didn’t even have a name for.
Acting became your career, by default.
Drugs were the portal to warmth. Opiates were your blankie.
Others could have their coke and crack, speed and meth. You desired that wonderful, fade to black.
Until it didn’t work any more.
The play was over; the curtain wide open, exposing the props.
Years had passed, and the drama had turned tragic.
You were blind to future events. When you were sixteen, you knew you wouldn’t get in trouble. Nothing that your parents couldn’t get you out of. And that’s what you really wanted to know. Would they help me? Would they care?
As you stumbled across the park, at three in the morning, solving all of your problems, you wouldn’t be deterred, by the fall. You just climbed to your feet and persevered. Trudging your path to an unhappy destiny. Maybe you could sue the city for their negligence, in protecting you from the hole in the ground. But once you got that bottle of wine, your scheme of ill-gotten gains, gave way to the sadness of the world. Facing the darkness, into the force of the wind, you heard the crash, of the invisible waves and wanted to die.
The Baby Junkie had grown up. Matured into the inevitable.
There was a cosmic battle occurring. Fought long and hard.
You never were a good fighter.
So you surrendered.
This post was inspired by – EX 1A