I am infected.
This disease, mocking me from the inside.
Laughing at me with every new sore and bleeding pustule. It taunts me in a laughing manner, making me wish I’d never met a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of hooch.
Makes me wish that I could have lived a life more fulfilling.
That I could have found love in something other than an addiction, but at least my addiction never left me.
unless I chose it to.

10/17/2003

Posted on 10/17/2003
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