Page 153 of Taste of Addiction

“I’m no closer to knowing that answer than I was months ago.”

“I highly doubt that, Angie. You have experienced a lot of growth the past few months. Don’t discount that. Quit letting your fear of falling keep you from taking another step. If you constantly look back at the past, you will miss all of the beautiful things that are going to happen in your future.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“Probably when I lost the safety net that was college. We are in the real world now. So, repeat after me…I, Angie.”

“I, Angie.”

“Promise to.”

“Promise to.”

“Always listen to my best friend.”

“Always listen to my best friend.”

“Because she is amazing.”

“Because she is amazing.”

“You feel better already, don’t you?” she asks, throwing a cheese ball at my mouth.

“One hundred percent,” I say with a smile, trying to find where it rolled. “I’m glad we can spend this time together.”

“You pretty much are stuck with me for life, no matter where I move or what I decide to do.”

I hug her to me. “Friends forever.”

* * *

I slip into my softest pair of yoga pants and sweatshirt after my shower. Lying on the bed, I grab my journal from my nightstand and scan through my numerous entries—reading my own words that I bled onto the paper. Words of sorrow, of grief, of self-reflection, and of triumph.

I am more than what I limit myself to be. I am greater than the image that the media continues to paint of me. Nothing really has changed with their view of me, and as much as I tell myself to ignore it, it is hard not to read what is being published. The effect from Owen alerting the news outlets of my wrongdoings will be hard to undo. But maybe there is another way to fight back.

What if my fear of falling is keeping me from growing? That all of my anxiety about fitting into a certain mold, or having a specific image, is keeping me from allowing myself a chance to speak out. Good girls stay silent. I could deny, deny, deny what is being printed.

Drug Addict.

Pill Popper.

Self-Harm Princess.

Or I can confirm publicly that I am all of those things. I can embrace my journey and share it with others who may be struggling with addiction. I can be a role model for those who think vices define worth.

There is hope in the ashes of our pasts. Even flowers can grow in chaotic conditions.

I grab my laptop and start typing.

I Am a Drug Addict

By Angela McFee

i am a drug addict. and i am going to be okay. but before that happens, i am going to be ridiculed, made fun of, called names, and be misunderstood. few people are going to want to hear my story of triumph. many are going to wait for me to fall.

that’s the thing with humans; they gravitate toward the flame of drama. they want you to break. they want you to live with self-hatred and loathing, never analyzing the damage that can be done by seemingly simple words.

i am a pill popper.

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