I took some time off work this week to finish my book proposal. There was a time when getting a book published was my only dream. I remember bringing a sample of my work to the English Department of the University I was attending when I first started using drugs. The professor was nice enough to humor me by reading it but I could tell he was put off by the content. He referred me to another colleague and I never pursued it.



I had more important things to do. My work at the time was filled with near pornographic material on my love for opiates. I loved the burn of the needle, I dreamed about when heroin and I would be together again. Drugs were my sex, my romance, my joy in one place. I never had to look beyond the plastic bag or bottles of pills. As I licked the blood of my hands, it was as if I was embracing life when that needle came out of my skin. My foreplay consisted of two hours of waiting for a dealer. I was in that phase when heroin WAS love and we were happy.



And then the years passed, they inched along at a snail's pace. The life of an addict and the life of a user are two totally different things. A few mornings spent broke on a toilet in withdrawal let you know that opiates are in charge and you are their bitch. There is no love anymore. There is simply the absence of pain. Remember that first time you slipped money out of someone's wallet, or shorted someone on a bag, or slept with some dealer, or worked some ugly girl for some drugs. Or maybe you are one of the unlucky ones that puts your paycheck up your arm and your stuff in the pawnshop. The servers, the drivers, the workers who are hooked one day at a time.



I had planned to spend my time writing but I spent a lot of time with my youngest child. Having kids was a dream I had given up on. Now these kids are my everything. They are my hope for the future. They tell me every morning with their soft hugs and laughter than mine is a life worth living. I am more than a scumfuck junkie. I am capable of love.



I don't know if my book will get published but in the game of life, against the odds, I came out ahead. These days I have with no needle hanging out of my arm have taught me my dreams were so small, my vision was so narrow. My life is filled with ups and downs but they are no longer held in powders and delivered at the cost of my dignity.



I'm just going to sit here and watch my son play with trains because that deserves my attention. I am living my dreams and casting aside bad memories



