"I totally get that," she says before giving me the side eye ,"I actually think that you and Harry might have a lot more in common that you think,"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean you guys seem to have some similarities in the 'trust department'...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CELESTE
Numb.
That's all I feel. That's all I want to feel.
It's been 12 days and 3 hours since I relapsed. I was sober for a good 3 and 1/2 weeks. They said that the first two weeks would be the hardest, and while they were, nothing could prepare me for that third week.
I had had nothing for over three weeks, not even weed. But the sudden stop of only source of peace in this world tore my body apart.
At this point, I have basically done everything, weed, Molly, cocaine, acid... heroin. Those substances were the only thing keeping me going after everything I've been through, the only thing that silenced my thoughts and left me feeling-
Numb.
My withdrawals got to the point were it physically felt like my skin was peeling off of my body and pulling in the direction of my hidden stash. No sleep, no appetite, constant sweating, and either burning up or freezing cold. I was sick. I needed it. I needed some of my substances back.
It's the only thing that helps me.
I look up from my powder covered sink counter and into the mirror, staring at the person looking back at me.
That's not me.
I'm not even here. My eye sight seems to lag slightly as I lift my hand up to my numb face. I poke my cheek and smile.
I needed this.
I can quit another time.
I look at the blood shot eyes in the mirror, ones that used to be so familiar to me but have lost the glimmer they once had. They now remain a dark grey to me. A grey that seems to cast over everything I look at when I'm not high.
I needed this.
I need this.
I shake my head and laugh down at myself. My thoughts bouncing around in my head mainly making useless conversations with itself and giving me the weirdest visions.
I just needed something this once. One more time, then I'll be done.
But a familiar itch comes back into me.
Maybe I need a little more.
I'll only do a little more.
I stare at the girl in the mirror, disgusted.
"Look at you, you pathetic little bitch." I say, "I'll do better, you say, I won't relapse, you say" I mimic myself.
"You're disgusting." I say spitting at the mirror.
That's not me.
"You don't need more. You aren't going to take more. You don't want it." I say gripping the edge of the sink, trying to convince myself with those empty words.
