“How consistently do you do drugs?” I reply with, “Oh, whenever I get the chance, I suppose.”
It’s not that simple, quitting. The drugs help me not feel. Why would I want to feel things that aren’t good? I’m sad all of the time. I can’t escape it. The drugs help. So what, I’m an addict. I’ve got everything under control. Give me what I want and you won’t hear my complaints. Don’t corner me and make me feel shitty about my actions. I do that on my own. Your help is not needed there.
You can’t corner me with your sole purpose being to make me self-aware of my abnormalities. That’s fucked up. But hey, you live your life, I live mine, am I right?