-1"Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying."

Everyone at some point during their life looks towards a certain person or thing to help them get through. Whether their relief is something positive like a hobby, or negative such as self-destruction, it is part of human nature to look for help when things become too hard to handle.

In the past few years, I have searched for my own release. Only until recently have they been beneficial to myself. As I grew into my teenage years, I started to do what every other teen does at least once.

I found that being under the influence not only helped me through life, but numbed life. With each letdown, each disappointment, each blow I had to take, the ones I did not feel obviously were the best.

I got hit, but I no longer cared. It didn't hurt anymore. At least that's what I thought.

Alcohol and drugs only seemed to make my problems worse to those around me. But the only real people who I surrounded myself with were in the same position as I. Wasted all the time. All my best friends will be the death of me. They had their own reasons and I had mine. We never questioned that, ever. To be honest, we never even thought about that. Not until now do I realize how far in I really was.

How far in I still am.

I now realize what my real escape has come to be.

I don't need drugs, I don't need alcohol, and I don't need a high.

I need him, and the absence of him in my life is much worse than any drug withdrawal imaginable.

He is my addiction, my obsession, my life. That one place where I fell down hardest is painted in what I used to be, what we used to be. If I cannot have him, I yearn for there. When I was submersed in the ongoing problems during that time, I even knew what strength it brought me. The memories were all I needed. I knew I was loved at one time, and that town was my own little recollection that reassured me that the happiest moments in my life were not just in my mind.

Now that I am in a completely different life, I grasp to hold onto what is left from what seems centuries ago. I refuse to be the person I really am in fear I will spoil those times in which my true self was at its best. The town haunts me every second of my waking life. In my dreams, it all seems too real, but I am reduced to tears when I leave them in the morning.

I am terrified no matter how dependent I am on returning there. Things are not like the were six months ago. It seems as if everything has changed. I want to remember it for what it was, not what it is now.

Living in an illusion is almost as bad as living in an addiction, and maybe that's the equivalent to my insanity. I'm living in the past, refusing to accept the changes and the fact that the biggest mistake of my life is now over with. If I regret it so, then why do I constantly long for the things that are slowly becoming my abandoned thoughts, stored in the back of my mind? I'm scared to think of how far back that really is.