Book Of Roses

Self-Indulgence

Two years.

I was sober for two years. 

It doesn't seem like a lot, but every day brought a new distraction I had to look forward to. I didn't know how bad it was during the day. When the sun was up I had a new school to worry about. I had friends to poke fun at. I had music to get lost to on the bus ride home. 

Alas, these were distractions. 

All distractions eventually end. 

Mine ended temporarily, at night. While I lay awake in bed, the distractions seemed to break from my grip, prying themselves away with little to no effort from my weak hands. 

I was alone at night, one of my biggest fears. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him out of my head the first few nights. 

It became easier as time passed. Eventually I spent a few sparing seconds before slumber to think of him. 

I was getting better. 

It was getting easier. 

But any addict would think that if they had no way of getting to their drug. 

He was out of my reach. 

Untouchable. 

Until a few months ago. His number popped up on his profile page. 

My heart raced at the thought of getting in contact with him. I rationalized with myself that I only wanted to see how he was doing. It was just a little check-up. 

Oh, how stupid I was. 

Two years. 

I flushed two sober years down the drain, but it wasn't all at once. 

I was gently cracking the brick wall I so carefully placed around myself. It was so subtle that I didn't notice until it was too late. 

Just like that, I was wrapped around his finger again. 

I don't know what's worse, the fact that I knew what I was doing or the fact that I wanted to do it. 

I wanted my drug back. 

I didn't care about the consequences. 

I didn't care about the people I pushed away. 

I was selfish. 

I was stupid.