When the World Ends

Addiction

After the world ended, supplies quickly began to run short. One thing that was nearly impossible to come by was this: Drugs.

All of the drug addicts and alcoholics quickly ran out of their respective substances. Smokers ran out of cigarettes, too. That left these angry, crooked people wandering through the streets, begging for just one hit. 

The cigarettes lasted the longest. She'd been smart, and had grabbed some that we'd found in a ruined convenience store in the first few months After. We used them to barter for food and water.

The alcohol was gone quick. It was, oddly enough, the first thing looted from the stores. Broken glass and colored liquids were spilled across the tiled floors of nearly all stores we encountered.

The drugs were gone the quickest. I know only because the druggies wandered the streets early on after the world ended; I quickly learned the two types. There were the Sorrowful, and there were the Hateful.

The Sorrowful sat staring mindlessly at the ground and people, often crying, or looking at nothing in particular. Perhaps they were daydreaming. Either way, they seemed quite sad and neglect of life.

The Hateful spewed obscenities and begged for just a gram, just an ounce. Just one hit, man, please?

Even after you'd told them you didn't have any drugs, they'd still beg. Then, after awhile, they'd turn violent and strike out at you. On several occasions, they'd pull out guns. On several more occasions, they'd pull a knife.

Many of the Hatefuls used sex as a way to come to terms with the loss of their drugs. Women had to be especially careful in the beginning months after the world ended; they were seen as vulnerable, easy targets for rape and murder. This greatly angered Robin, who would often rant and rave about how women aren't vulnerable--that's just how our society had portrayed them to be, and so that's how so many saw themselves.

Once, after we'd avoided a potentially nasty encounter with a band of drug addicts, she had tugged lightly on my sleeve. I'd looked down to see a sorrowful look on her face.

What is it? What's wrong?

Keane... 

Yeah? You okay?

Yeah, but, can I ask you something?

Sure. Anything.

Do you think one can get addicted to feelings?

I'd been a bit taken aback by her questions, and so I'd asked her to clarify it.

Like, emotions that others bring up in you. Do you think you could get addicted to them?

I'd thought about it, and then slowly shook my head. I told her No, I didn't, and she'd seemed a bit upset but left the subject alone after that.

Now, yes, I can see her point--love, in itself, is an addiction. So is happiness. You want more and more of it, and when you don't have it, you could be driven to depression and worse. 

Yes, she was right--love is a drug, and so are all of the positive emotions.

Now, I wonder, what are the negative emotions, like sadness, then? 

They can't just be there, right?

Right?