My addicted addiction

I’ve been clean off meth for four days. Nothing about Withdrawal, capitalized like a being with a name, has been easy for me. Shit, before now I never even tried to get crystal meth out of my life because crystal meth was my life. I dealt it in the streets of Southeast San Diego, I did it myself, and everyone i knew was in its clasp. My Withdrawal, my getting clean, made me feel anything but clean. My body feels dirty my mind feels dark. I feel like I quit my addiction but I also feel like my addiction quit me. I feel like a part of my life committed suicide when I my desire to smoke crystal was severed. I wasn’t your friendly neighborhood white girl who’d give a good deal on an 8b anymore. I am a stubborn person once I grew tried of something, I’d ponder it a while longer, then like a color I no longer could see it no longer existed. And it took with it a grey area I had pondered much before actually attempting to quit, what would happen to my life and the parts of my life built by the industry of meth? The friends, the constant phone calls from I’d call them “hungry” customers, the ellure of income, and the craving for having a zip in ur waistband crossing the street in front of a police cruiser like you’re 007 paroozing by the dumbest cops on the planet, the danger, was almost a whole other addiction in and of itself. Crystal meth was and is and will be a part of me. But I am choosing to make it apart of my past, not my future. I am the artist of my own disaster and I there will be sunshine and sushi after the tsunami of emotional and physical pain Withdrawing will and has caused me. But knowing that I am not alone is the greatest tool I have.