My wake-up call.

As some of you know, I used to run around with a needle in my arm. The high was, for the most part, my escape from reality.

The memories of my past, the lies, all of the pain, gone. POOF see ya later. All gone with the push of the plunger, not to be seen or heard from again. At least for the next 4 hours or so.

For 10 plus years that was my life.

So what changed?? Well, to put it simply, I got tired. Tired of the trips to the E.R. Tired of being sick. Tired of my dealer being shorting the bag. I was tired of prison.

One day I awoke in my cell and said to myself "hey dumbass, there has got to be a different way of doing this thing called life".
So when I was released I began working out, reading and playing the paino. Instead of picking up a syringe I grabbed a pen.

I began to write.

Today I'm not perfect in the least. I still get that overwhelming urge to call my dealer. When I see a needle I still itch. It's a process and knowing that is my progress. Just remember it's a process.