I enjoyed shooting heroin as much as one can enjoy it. It served it’s purpose- filling the void of non existent relationships, happiness, and self esteem. I didn’t need love. Heroin WAS love. Mix that with the ego boost that was amphetamines. My path to daily maintenance was settled. I saw the consequences but I cared very little about them. If only I had an endless supply, I told myself. In reality, I should’ve been more focused on having usable veins. I abused the vessel that held my future endeavors to the point the machine turned against me. It was time to try abstinence, possibly and probably against my better judgment. There was simply no evidence it would work.Twenty something years later, I’m a functioning human. There are days when I’m less functioning than others. I hold no illusions about that time of my life. I am both lucky to have survived and angry that drugs don’t work for me anymore. I can hold both opinions. I was fortunate to survived before fentanyl but I’m sad I didn’t get in a few more Oxys. Just saying.My forties are rolling to an end. I’ve enjoyed most of my life. If you’d asked me at 22 what I’d be doing at this age, I would’ve said “decomposing” with no irony. But I’ve outlived my shelf life. I’ve come to accept this fleshy prison as tolerable. I even feel happy from time to time.I haven’t been writing to you much because honestly I’ve been eating like shit and binging tv. I’ve fallen into intellectual apathy. It happens. I’m in a slump that is wrapped in fleecy sweatpants. It is what it is I guess. Mentally, I’m on pause. But I’ll emerge with new ideas. I always do. In the meantime, pass the chips. We got resting to do.