I know what you are; what you have become. Your addiction is not unique in its appearance. Half your teeth are gone. Your face is riddled with strange reddish, purplish splotches. Your hair is thinning, unhealthy, unkempt. Your body is skinny in an unnatural way- a way that didn’t come from any fitness quest. Your eyes are hungry, desperate. You come to me.
You ask that I trade you what doesn’t belong to me for something that really doesn’t belong to you and we do this dance, based on an honor system that you can only pretend at. You are not fooling anyone. Yet, I do pity you when you show me your driver’s license and I see who you once were – some years ago, with shining hair , a nice smile, and life in your eyes. When did it all start to slip? The first time? The fifteenth? Does it even matter now? Do you still dream of normalcy or are you too far gone to notice it missing?
I fear you. I fear what lunatic, junked-up act of violent desperation you will attempt when your needs are resisted. I’ve seen it before. All around us, the epidemic of meth has its teeth buried deeply into our collective jugular and it no longer confines itself to the fringes of society that we might hope to ignore.
I watch as friends lose their cars, their money, and their lives to you- the zombies among us. I see young people becoming sick, lost, and self-deceived all around us and I wonder what the future holds for you, but I fear the worst, because you don’t seem to be able to even see your own shadow of death even as you walk in it.