And yes that was a life with drug abuse. Crack and heroin addiction. Which I had sorted out.
You truly do not miss what you had, until you’ve lost it.
I miss the silence. No TV, no stereo. Nothing to drown out background noises and murmurs which react to my endless stream of chatter.
I miss being able to lie, with my eyes open. Not having to close them... wait 20 mins, before hearing the ‘she asleep’ murmur.
Not having to concentrate with such intensity, to regulate and deepen your breathing. Not letting you mouth smirk, or brow crease, in reaction to the endless stream of thoughts in your head.
Whilst I enjoy company, and am aware of its contribution to the fact I am still alive, I miss being alone. Just me, and my pets. Bursting into song upon awaking.
Less temptation to use drugs, as I only had my cravings to fight. When a user lives with a user, you tend to use more. Every time they get a craving, you suddenly have one too.
But awaking each day, to missing money / Oyster card / cash card / keys. Or finding bottles of sauce when you have no memory of needing it, nor finding any supporting evidence to confirm it had been required. Or the noises which make me feel I am no longer alone in my house. Or my alarms not going off. Realising you are short a good week of essential medication. Without it, your employment is in jeopardy. But, with all the above considered, having solitary, is unrealistic.
I cannot endure morning upon morning, of waking up and bursting into hysterical tears.
The bus app, which gives me inaccurate times, resulting in my colleagues, describing me of being tardy.
The all consuming anxiety.
I miss, walking through a park, or wooded area, and being alone.
Feeding the ducks. Watching robins and squirrels. Appreciating the Sun set on a summer’s day, dying the sky, from yellow, to orange, to pink, then purple, before its inky black, studded with diamonds.
The rain, when it’s hot and I search the sky for rainbows as the sun still beats down.
Walking under trees in the Autumn, dancing and spinning, as I’m showered with golden leaf confetti.
Dancing and singing in my front room, KNOWING no one is watching.
Walking down a back street, at 5pm, in the pitch black. Encountering no one.
Being able to go out without my hair or makeup done, and worry about judgment.
Being able to pick my spots, take a shit and admire the size of if, fart like a man, pick my nose, pluck my facial hair, shave my pubes, look at my va-jay-jay and know I have the basic human right of privacy.
Indulge in wild sex. Masterbate. Watch freaky porn.
I wish I didn’t have constant paranoia.
I wish I didn’t feel so inadequate.
I wish I felt loved.
I wish I could be alone, feel secure, know I have privacy and chill with my cat.
I wish I could be normal person happy, not just fucked up junkie happy.
