Name: Helena Blackman
From: Naples, FL
This Is Addiction
This is Addiction
I step out into the muggy heat and the clouds swirl in 4D before my eyes. A bird darts across the sky.
The concrete swarms like branches of a flowering tree, overgrown with Spanish moss.
We do drugs for stimulus. There is no other purpose. No great insight. It is purely for the buzz of the generator in my left ear and the bluebirds chirping in my right while the air brushes my skin in a cool, calming sensation.
An ant crawls across the ground, and then two, and then ten. I sit outside in the Florida sunshine on my bright blue lawn chair and I can pick out twelve shades of green on the grass in front of me.
A car goes by on the street. Nothing is special about it, just another Jeep Wrangler hauling down the backroads off 56th, but it’s especially pleasant for no reason at all.
Music drums in your chest and the harmonies bounce from your left ear to your right ear. A song you’ve heard a thousand times will sound new.
Inside the house, the lights shift from purple to blue and back again. A combination of the drugs and the color changing LED light perched on the desk.
I notice how beautiful Victoria looks under the florescent lights in the kitchen. Everything squiggles. Patterns swarm and grow and shrink and blink. Everything is brighter.
I went to put my hair up four times and forgot before I could accomplish the task. My hair hangs loose around my shoulders as I watch Victoria get lost in the way the ceiling fan casts shadows across the room.
The lines on my hands are prominent, swirling and fading and reappearing. Crawling skin is a term that I know must have been coined by a person experienced with LSD. It’s stimulating and enthralling.
This stimulus is the reason we’re looped in.
We don’t seek out drugs. We don’t look at a sweaty mess standing on the corner of i-75 and aspire to be like him. We don’t look at needles in a ditch and hope to one day leave our own needles.
We just want to take a bite of cereal and enjoy it, to feel the sunshine on our skin and smile about it. We want euphoria. We crave regular sensations that depression has taken away from us.
We are discontent with the life we live, and the only solution to being discontent with reality is to disconnect yourself.
So we pop a pill. We buy a gram. We take one last hit, and then another, and another.
We think “maybe if we mix it with this drug, maybe if we take it at this time of day. Maybe the trip will be better. Maybe it will feel better”.
We crave a feeling that we will never reach. We don’t know what that feeling is and we will never achieve the feeling. It is pointless. But we come back because we are addicted. Because, as the warning label says, “nicotine is an addictive chemical”.
We are drug addicts.