When I woke up this morning, I didn't know I'd be staring my addiction in the face. I

say my addiction because even after you quit, you're still an addict. Just a recovering

addict. "How long does it take to recover?" I learned the answer today, although I knew it

all along. "Till your six feet underground." Why am I writing about this today? Because at

the current moment I'm holding five little white pills in my hand. Five little pills that one

by one crushed my whole teenage life. I'm still trying to put the pieces back together and

make it right again. But as I look ahead, it seems this road never ends. The obstacles to

overcome to get back to where I want to be are...endless. The person I was before I got

addicted to pain killers is dead and gone. This is the only me I know anymore. The only me

anyone seems to know anymore. I've been doing good and I've stayed clean for almost three

years now. I was doing an out-patient program to get clean, once that was done I've managed

to stay clean. Even living in a house where there's pain pills all over the place almost. My

Dad needs them. My Mom hides them and holds onto them so he doesn't take too many. Even

though he needs them, he's addicted to them like I was am. So we both

imagine he'd overtake and overdose on them if he had his way. Whether this would be

intentional or accidental I can't say. How am I suppose to know what someone else is

thinking. I've gone this long though, knowing where they were and could go and take some

whenever I wanted to, but I haven't. What's stopped me, I don't know. I'm scared of being an

addict. I hate the addict in me. Maybe that's how I've been able to stay away. Today was the

first day I've had to hold them for more than a few minutes. If they're in a bottle it's

easier to detach myself from them. I just think I'm holding a bottle. But today after My Mom

took my Uncle's kids to go see the Easter Bunny at the mall and forgot to leave some out for

my Dad...I called to find out where some were. I hate seeing someone I love in pain. So  my

Mom told me where she hid some, I went and got them but my Dad was pretty much right there.

Seven were hidden there, I gave him two and pocketed the rest. Why didn't I give him all

seven? Because I love him, he's my Dad. I'm afraid if I handed him all seven he would of gone

and taken all seven at once. And I don't know what would of happened then. I couldn't just

put them back either, he would of known where to look. I could never put someone else's life

that I love in danger, even if the only danger to them is themselves. I'll throw myself under

the bus first. So here I sit, holding five tiny little pills and I realize the addicition

never leaves, it's always there. It's the Demon on my shoulder whispering into my ear "Just

one." or "Only today, it won't hurt you." This type of thinking is what led to my downfall in

the first place. I know people will say it isn't me, it's "My addiction" talking. But "I AM"

my addiction. It's a part of me, good or bad...love it or really fucking hate it. It's still

a part of me now and forever will be. It makes me into the lying, deceitful, angry monster I

can be. Although there are some lines I haven't crossed and I imagine I won't cross...almost

everyone's addictions lead them to doing stuff they would never in their life do before it.

For example...lying to the people you love, stealing from people, harming someone. The list

goes on and on. I've only lied to the people I've loved and I hope I never do anything else.

My Mom just got home a little bit ago, I just went downstairs and took them to her and handed

her the empty pill bottle I put them in.(I even had to hide the bottle somewhere outside of

my room or I thought for sure I would of taken them.) As I handed her the bottle she said she

wondered where they went, and I whispered to her because I could barely get the words out.

"Don't leave them there again." She said "Yeah, because your Dad knows now." And I whispered

"Not because of him." She goes "You wanted to take them?" and I barely got out the word

"Yeah" as I started to walk away. She asks "Since when?" I don't even turn my back to face

her, I can't. I just keep walking back to my room with my hooded sweatshirt on and my hood up

hiding my face and I shrug because I'm holding back tears and sobs. Once I got back here to

my room I almost broke down, crying. I managed to just hold it back by breathing deeply for a

few moments and shaking uncontrollably. How has my life come to this? Why can something so

small make a world of difference in someone's life. Why can't I ever go back to the person I

was? The person other people used to love to be around. I have to stop thinking about this

for the moment before I drive myself insane and really do break down.

Severe toothache with bad neck/back pains = One major fucking terrible migraine headache. I feel that if I took a shotgun blast to the head. I would fucking feel a lot fucking better. At least it'd stop the constant fucking throbbing.