I hated the feeling I got when I ran out of drugs. My body got adapted to the physiological changes meth brought over the course of time. I was used to everything. Only sleeping a couple hours here and there, more towards the end I was used to eating on it. This meant that I felt that I needed the drug to feel normal. If I didn't have it (which was a rare occurrence, but did occasionally happen), I got horrible headaches, depression, debilitating vertigo, and didnt want to do anything except sleep. The Jones was Epic. That's why all I would ever do was use and find ways and means to get more. My entire life was centered around this drug.
Today I am grateful that I don't have to "run out" anymore. And that I don't have to "come down" off of anything. I'm grateful that I don't wake up obsessed with getting that next one.
Here's a cliche from the rooms that I used to hate hearing, but makes total sense now. If I don't pick it up, it won't get in me. It is that simple, but I understand in active addiction I felt it was much more complicated than that.
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