the thoughts of an addict

8 days. 

192 hours. 

11520 minutes. 

That is how long Arabella stayed sober. No smoking, no drinking, and most definitely, no pills. 

She was tired of being a walking contradiction. Sure, there was pleasure in that freedom. But then again, there was irony to that statement. How can one feel liberated when chained to an addiction? 

Its like every thought is countered with another, and she is faced with a mess of a mind. The constant swirls of the delicately formed conscious begins to fall apart and she just wants to breathe again. Its hard for her to breathe the ordinary oxygen, she is like a fish out of water. Instead of gulping water and absorbing the energy from there, she would inhale the chemicals of a cancer stick or the anesthetic properties of marijuana. Now, here she is. A fish out of water that is mistaken for a girl. And her constant gasps of air, mistaken for breaths. And no one realizes that she is suffocating. 

But its better that way, she thought. 

She would never wish her thoughts upon anybody, especially the people she loves. Because then, they would have to learn to love more people who go by the name of Arabella Davidson. How can you love one version but hate the other? Its one hard invisible battle, thats what it is.

One minute, she was a rebel. An activist's blood flowing through her veins. The thrill of being a degenerate intoxicating her soul, while the drugs intoxicated her mind. 

The next, she was a damsel. A one in distress at that. One locked in a tower of her own arrogance, yet prays for a knight in shining armor to come to her rescue. 

Another minute passes, and she's neither of the beforehand mentioned people before. This time, she is a basket case. With a self esteem as low as her GPA, and zero desire to better herself. She dug her way into a grave and has come to terms with it.

The thing was, she didn't know how addicted she was, until she tried to stop. Sure, the first day was great, spectacular even. But the days after, those were complete hell. She felt like a walking, soulless skeleton. She felt as if she was having trouble shedding her old skin. She felt like she died. 

The person she is, is not her, at least that what everyone is telling her. Its a phase, they say. You'll grow out of it, they say amongst each other. She'll grow out of it, they say. What they say might be true, but what if that phase, is already a part of her? 

What if the person she is now, isn't a phase and its all she would ever be? She accepted that she was an addict, because thats what she is. But, she didn't think it was that bad. She wasn't out living on the streets, she wasn't crazy. She was just a girl with a fuzzy brain and scars on her wrists. She was the girl who always carried books in her hands but drugs in her bag. She was the girl who scored an A on her tests but forgot to turn in all assignments prior. She was the girl no one understood, not even her. 

She lacked goals, lacked ambition. Yet, her life revolved around those two things. With hard working parents, its all she has ever known. She works hard. She is never late for a shift, and tries to complete everything during that time. She could work for 14 hours straight and not regret it. 

But, she lacked goals and ambition. 

She was just living day to day, just waiting. For what? She doesn't know exactly. But she stares at the clock, consciously watching the time pass. She has no motivation and her imagination is as good as done. She says she wants to be a lawyer, but now, realizes that she has no idea why. Maybe, it is because it sounds great. The adults love her for it. Does she really want to practice law though?

Being sober for the last 8 days, has forced her to think about all these things. She can feel herself itching closer and closer to losing her mind. The whole point about about getting high was so she could feel like someone else. Feel lighter. When she was high, she wasn't Arabella Davidson. When she was drunk, she wasn't Arabella Davidson. She could be whomever she wanted to. Her thoughts were all rainbows and laughter. Acid, shrooms, pills, pot. They all made her so happy. It was the rebel in her that was escaping the reality of being her. And she loved it. 

She used the drugs to become another person, and she did. 

Now, she regrets it to the fullest. Because now, she is so lost. She is walking a thin line of deciding who she wants to be. She stands there, in the middle of a bridge that is falling apart, seeing all her loved ones on one side, and seeing her happiness on the other. Faced with the choice of doing what is right, or reaching for fabricated happiness. 

Arabella was an addict, and now, being forced to hear her thoughts scream, she does not know if she wants to change. 

Its a funny thing really, because she owns up to her faults and she knows the solutions. She knows that she can get her shit together, she knows that she can change. But she does not know if she wants to. Because that means that she will have to change her entire being, or lose a whole chunk of her. 

Being an addict was a big part of who she was. It was her life style. It was what she was known for. She has grown accustomed to it. She has had time to fall in love with that certain part of her. If she loses such a chunk of herself, she is going to have to fall in love with whatever comes to replace that chunk. 

She figures that she is just scared. Scared to go through the process all over again. Its a very gruesome one in her case. One full of self loathing and emptiness. She doesn't think that she can make it out a live. Malik already left with a chunk of her, and if she loses this chunk too, she doesn't think that there will be anything left. 

There will be nothing but the embers of a once wild fire that stirred inside of her. She will be left empty, with nothing to fill the void. But none the less, she has to make a decision. 

And that decision terrified her.