The people I grew up with are dropping like flies around me, makes me an unimaginable amount of thankful to be sober (2 years and counting), but utterly disturbing knowing that they didn’t win their fight. Its not just them who lost the fight, but their family and friends left with broken hearts and broken memories of a person leaving life way before their time. The longer I’m sober the more I just watch these kids kill themselves and I want to feel bad but the addict has all of these “problems” when in reality they get to be HIGH as fuck dealing with them (pretty sure I didn’t come down once for two and a half years straight). Once your sober you still have those problems and you still have to deal with them, minus the soft, warm, tingly, groggy love feeling of heroin coursing through your veins. Sober is harder but getting back there is the hardest.