my drug.

I think she was like my drug.

I’d get high on the temporary fix her love would give me.

But then that love became one sided, and I wanted her more than what could satisfy me.

The withdrawal was hard, and I’d eventually be so strung out that even I believed I was crazy.

But it was the mess that the drug brought with it.

I’d hit that rock bottom so hard.

And while I was scraping the ground for more of her, I was slowing breaking pieces of myself to dig with.

Once I was about to give up and succumb to the numbness, there she was again.

A fresh new batch.

Returning the high and the feeling of happiness.

Giving me again everything I had craved.

I thought I was better, we were better now that we hit that high again.

But I was wrong.

That story just repeats itself until I’m nothing but a few crumbs left.

I got out, I got clean, “hi, my name's Sabrina and I’m a love addict”.

I was a HER addict.

I fell off that solo wagon and ended up right back in the dangerous game.

I needed complete sobriety from her if I was ever going to survive this life.

And so I did.

Cold turkey, as they say.

But I'd been slowly preparing for an end.

I still get the itch, the craving of her body, just a taste of the good she used to bring me.

I had been so clouded with thoughts that what we had was going to get better.

It’s easier to remember the amazing highs than the lows.

You don’t realize the toll of addiction until one day you look in the mirror and realize you don’t recognize the person looking back.

But I made it out alive.

I made it to recovery.