No more Nick in my life. Is for the best. I am fine to let her believe she has made this choice, it's easier this way. Who wants to hear, hey you are a fucking meth head who's used my wallet to supply your habit over the last few years while I stand by and make excuses to others. She gave me my first taste. Of all of it. First coke. First crack. First meth. Whatever. My addiction is not hers. I do not blame her for it. I own it. It lives in me. It consumed me. It still does. But I want out. Leaving her behind is a requirement if I am ever going to be able to live my life without drugs and alcohol.
Had a break down last night. Went to speak with her, didn't go so hot. Ended up crying my mascara away for nearly two hours. Ran down my cheek into the beer that had appeared before me. I drank and drank and drank. Picked up a buddy to help hide the shame of being alone. Drank even more. Scored some coke. Did the entire ball. Drank even more. Saw the good people, the ones I stay way from when I am in full on addict mode. Closed the bar. Started the after party. Not too sure about what all happened and exactly when, but by the end of morning, I found myself weeping while three friends attempted to keep me from biting my hands so hard that today they are swollen twice the size and bruised badly. I have not been in that low of a place in a very long time. I know if these people had not been the good that they are, I would have severely hurt myself. I have not had these feelings. I do not know what to do with them.
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