Recovery

I feel like I am trapped inside a bubble that's about to explode. Running with blind eyes, my body beaten and bloody away from a screaming, biting past that sends its deathly sentinels after me, memories. I close my eyes, the screaming noise in my head now flattens to an echo, I inject happiness in my veins. The momentary confusion between joy and misery is death, my substance, my lover, my curse.

It's 3 months now that I am clean. This last rehab sentence ( I call it a sentence because Kripa rehab, Kolkata is worse than a jail sentence) was the worst of the four. By now I can say that I am a dead man from inside, my hollow insides are writing; dry and knotty like dead wood. I have hit rock bottom. I just can't go on with my habit anymore, I know it, but I am scared nonetheless of relapse. The dark circles beneath my eyes are just compliments to my state of mind right now.

I feel like I am a circus clown riding a bicycle whose wheels have been put on fire and there are no brakes, so I'm cursed to ride around endlessly until I fall or unless someone holds me or stops me. This reminds me of the Creed song, "Hold me now, I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking..."

I'm such a whore, I think. My substance pulls my strings with 30 bucks and I let it bare. More than my body and mind, I think I am selling my soul to this substance.

My life is almost over now. Just holding on to one last hope. If God is there and I believe he is, then he won't let go of my hand now.

My recovery, has begun.