662,695,445 Seconds

It felt as though I'd been staring at that dangerously loaded syringe for hours, maybe even days. Hating it, loving it, wanting it, wanting to hate it, wanting more of it— and then hating myself.

It's enticing, seduction in its most deadly form and more powerful than any woman I've ever met. My body ached, begged for something to take this emptiness away. Desperation makes you do crazy things, like sticking a syringe in your arm full of enough poisons to kill most.. but not you, no.. you’re invincible.

After a few more minutes of contemplative indecisiveness while twirling that syringe through my fingers; I reached for my tourniquet and tied the blue rubber strip around my arm. Loop around, tuck under, snap. I remember when that used to hurt, before it provided me with a sick comfort.

With my circulation now cut off, my arm was purple and my hand was numb, “No big deal.” I whispered under my breath while actively choosing to ignore the tears now running down my cheeks-- Tears of shame, of embarrassment, self hatred, disappointment, weakness, loneliness and a complete lack of hope for the future.

It seems these days.. there's almost always tears of resentment towards this little plastic bag which drags me further and further down this path and closer to death. I hate it, this, that syringe. It’s the egregious, relentless, its the untrustworthy friend I already have. More than one, in fact and I have no desire for another. I sat on the floor crying and feeling sorry for myself with my arm tied up.. Holding the syringe I've grown to loathe, I poked my favorite— my only useable vein. RUSH. It was incredible, indescribable and so fucking satisfying that it almost made me angry. This is why I keep coming back, why I stay a drug addict. Ten minutes ago I wanted to die, take my own life and never poke my arm again.

Register / flash of blood / plunger pushed / pull out / cough, cough / exhale vapor.. and just like that the thoughts are, gone.

It’s sick and disgusting how quickly it added light to the darkness, my mind was finally bright again and those faces I try to forget had vanished. Seconds. It only took seconds. That's the part of all this I find to be the most horrendous, the seconds.

I hate how one second can ruin twenty one years of existence, one second can erase 662,695,445 seconds. I spent twenty one years building my life, just to risk it ending in one brief moment and without warning. I’m giving up everything just to emerge from the darkness and see the sun again.

                    I'm giving it up in just one second.