Poetic Prose. Addict.

Addict.

I am an addict.

I know who I am and what I am.

I am not afraid of admitting it.

And I’m tired of it being a bad word.

I stepped back 3 years ago, and I had to call my problem what it was.

An addiction.

It made me step up. It made me fight.

It made me realize that there was hope.

It made me want to fight.

To destroy the cycle once and for all.

To let go of the shame. The pain. The taboo.

And find something greater.

Drive. And desire.

To be free and to help free.

The shame has no place in this house.

RELAPSES HAVE NO PLACE IN THIS HOUSE.

Hope is welcome. Pain is welcome.

Redemption is forever. Addict. Free. Fighting.