With a little time in it’s easy to forget the devastation addiction wreaked in my life. My clean comfortable bed does not resemble it’s former soiled, sweaty self. My healthy body no longer shakes. My teeth are fixed. My skin is clear. Looking at me you wouldn’t know I was once a hopeless drug addict. I have come far. Yet, I am not cured. There are moments, (fleeting) when I miss getting high. I’d like to feel the buzz again, and the comfort it brings in social gatherings. Although I am content and happy in my sobriety, at times I am envious of the normies who can drink their face off, dabble with drugs and then put them down. At times I miss those intense, chaotic, crazy parties. Not to mention the sense of euphoric belonging I felt, falsified by the copious amounts of liquid courage I poured down my throat. Trouble is, my buzz comes with a truck load of shit I don’t want. I need to remember, I don’t have a stop button. If I pick up the buzz, I pick up the consequences. A few hours of buzz – liquid, powder or pills – and the buzz will wear off. But the shame won’t. Now I’m back to feeling like a big fat loser, chasing more, who just broke a lot of hearts. That’s IF I’m lucky. Many of us pick up the buzz, and end up dead. If you’re missing the buzz, it’s normal. Play the tape ALL the way through. Don’t stop at the buzz. You can’t stay buzzed forever. I/We all have another relapse in us. Sometimes I can feel it, hiding, lurking in the dark recesses of my mind just waiting to pounce. I never want to forget how sick I was, or that this illness is cunning, baffling and powerful. Scarier still, it’s patient.