Silent Screams

Free Write 4

I never understood why people had chosen alcohol or drugs over their family, over their loved ones. As elementary children, we are taught that people do that because the drug messed with their brain. We are never told why they do the drugs, why they chose them in the first place. Now I know.

Depression. Anxiety. Stress.

They take you and turn you into someone else, but they really don't. They take all the hidden darkness in people like me, people who are so dark yet so naive to it, and then they twist and mold and turn the darkness into something greater. Something that can destroy your entire life.

Addiction isn't always to a drug or substance. Sometimes it's to a feeling. Sometimes it's to a sound. Sometimes it's to a pen and paper, and sometimes it's to a canvas that's unlimited and yet so limited at the same time.

Red ink.

I was addicted to red ink. I am addicted to red ink. Sometimes I forget that I am. In fact, I was able to stop for a pretty long time, but then I lost it. I used red ink again and again. I lied and said I wouldn't use it again. I said I would stop. I figured, they will never know. And it went on like that. Until I stopped because I used too much.

New pens.

I got a new silver pen. It was shiny and pretty and I forgot about my old ones. It created sharper letters and used less ink. I used it once and got scared, locking it away.

Old feelings.

My old feelings were all slammed onto me in one night. I forgot about the sharp letters and used my new pen as I would use my old pen. I used it to create art instead of words, the lines it gave me were too hard to work with. I used it and then promised not to use it again. I waited a day, and then I realized I was a junkie.

Liar.

I lied to the people who care about me. They asked if I would do it again. I lied and told them that I wouldn't, I promised.
I realize now why people chose their addiction over their family.

Best friend.

My best friend was an inanimate object. He couldn't love me back. That was okay. I understood that. But he was always there when I needed him. He always reminded me that I was alive and that I could feel and that my existence was real, wether I wanted it to be or not.

So yes, I understand now why we chose addiction over our loved ones. Because our loved ones don't understand, and most of the time they don't care to understand. Our addictions understand us and they let us use them in whatever way we need to. I'm sorry to say this, but I've fallen in love. I thought my first love would be a person, but it turns out it's a feeling.