Check my history, you’ll see that I make no secret about having been a homeless heroin addict for over a decade. I went through over 5 years of methadone treatment, but I finally weaned myself off of that too by slowly decreasing my dose over time.
I’ve been completely sober now for about 2 years. Don’t clap it sucks, and it’s not by choice. I can’t find anything that makes me feel good except heroin, and I’m not doing that again.
Hell, it’s 5:14 am as I’m typing this, and the only reason I’m awake is because my partner still goes to the clinic, and I have to drive them every morning, 7 days a week, because they won’t stop smoking weed.
My best friend from the age of 6 died from an overdose 8 years ago, and I’m now raising his kid as well as my own, and if you do the math that means I was still an addict when I came into their life, but got in treatment soon after. But nah. I’m just full of shit. I don’t know anything about that. The scars that trace the veins in the backs of my hands must be my imagination.
I joke around about a lot of things, but desperation, and the stories about people I’ve known are all true.
Edit: Stealing wasn’t my main go to. I made it a point to look super respectable, and would beg. I used to could look like a very nice guy. But I absolutely have done it when I was at my worst.