Can
I Have A Dream
Jani
W
ref:
May 99 Heroinsight
The
roller-coaster starts again: shouting, screaming,
the second I walk in the door.
Why have your addict live with you?
It happens, that's all.
You think it will change. You keep hoping things are
getting better.
You keep telling yourself that this month is so much
better than the last.
Then the shit hits the fan again.
Your life, your self-esteem, your temporary-and-hard-fought-for-peace
is torn apart.
It's over.
Back again in the treadmill.
She'll
have to go.
I can't stand this any more.
All the aims. All your hopes. All your dreams.
Gone, in one second.
It is a death. It is a dying.
I've heard parents say they prefer total addiction
to withdrawal.
With withdrawal you get the roller coaster.
The foul language. The domestic violence. The upheaval.
The gradual decay and disintegration of family life.
Your
dreams disappear. Thunder strikes.
The lightning is back.
Can I have a dream, you ask.
Yes, you can.
So long as you can take it out of the cupboard,
dust it off and put it back at very short notice.
And, oh yes. Be prepared to live a long time.
Your dream gets used to hanging around.
It's a bit dog-eared. A bit worn round the edges
Or in my case about twenty years too late.
When
the pain in my chest
Matches the beating of my forehead
We have lift off. It's on again.
The tears. The phone calls.
The endless ramifications.
The bedlam. The hell-on-earth.
Addicts out-of-it. The rest of us in it up to our
necks.
Maybe
the ticket increases in price as you go along.
Maybe the journey just gets longer.
Or maybe I just get old.
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