𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

17 BENDING

A/N:
Same goes for this chapter as the last and as it will for the next few chapters. If you don't have an open mind or don't like sad and messed up stuff then skip ahead.

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Some people reach for a pack of smokes every time something even remotely stress-inducing happens. There's a lot of people who take anti-anxiety medication every time their nerves start to get increasingly unchecked. A good amount of us reach for a glass of something much stronger than a glass of water when life starts to get us down. Lastly, whenever life's challenges lead to an ungodly amount of pent-up frustration most of us need a long and hard fuck to let off some steam.

Right?

I think most people would agree that one of the aforementioned things is something they'd consider their vice of choice. Well, if one is old enough to be buying a pack of smokes and have a drink, then I think most everyone can agree on that. Whether they'd like to admit it or not, most of us need something to help us get through this thing called life. Because life can be fucking daunting even at the best of times.

Now, here's the difference between a regular person and me, an addict, an addict's thought becomes a compulsion, it's not just a thought any longer. It's a compulsion so strong that I can't think of anything else. Once that thought enters my mind, my brain is now hardwired to want that one thing or things that will make it all better.

They can make it all better. They can take the pain away.

Control has never been my area of expertise, to say the least, which is where this little thing called addiction gets tricky, folks. This is where things have the potential to get really really fucking bad for someone like me. This is because when life's bullshit begins to build up in piles around me not only do I want the substance or substances of my abuse, there can never be enough of it, of them. My brain goes on a loop repeating a mantra I've heard so many, many times. And it plays over and over and over again.

I need it and I need it now. I need more and it will never be enough. None of it will ever be enough.

Now, imagine being me, someone who does all of the above things on a regular basis. Just try and imagine what my brain is telling me, screaming at me. Consume it all. And this is where my addiction becomes a serious problem, because I pile it all on top of each other. There's no time for recovery when you go on a bender, nope. Just black out and start over because you can't stop.

Not when the demons are pounding repeatedly throughout my skull every time I am anywhere remotely near sober. 

Thank you, Dopamine, for making my synapses clog up and become desolate things because all of the above is how I ended up here, on Trevor's bathroom floor, having a series of rum fits. Most individuals don't know what that one is and their lucky that they don't.

So. Fucking. Lucky...  I think to myself as my body convulses on the tile floor.

I hate it when this happens, hate when I do this to myself. I fucking hate having seizures because I don't keep up with my drinking or do other things than drink. It happens almost every time I go on a bender, almost every time I chronically abuse alcohol to the nth degree. By that I mean after I consume more poisonous concoctions than should be humanly possible for an extended period of time. 

This is the danger of substance abuse. If the drugs and alcohol don't kill you, then the withdrawal might.  

I've been seizing on and off for a good minute, but at least it's not the worst I've ever had. At least this is a minor series of seizures. Some say you can't remember when you seize but I remember the utter loss of control and the way my teeth clench together so hard I think they're going to shatter.