Alone And Lonely

by Lara Wilson

No one every mentioned how alone the drugs would make you feel. How they stripped everything from you, every human connection, compressing you until all you were was craving and rare satiation. Being alone was painful, hard and empty.

Being lonely was even worse.

In those brief moments between shaky withdrawal and floating on a heroin haze, Roy missed his friends, missed the only family he'd had since he was a child, desperately wanted to find his way back to them.

But, as always, the drugs took those feelings away, replacing them with false pleasure which faded to painful need every time.

Shivering in the corner of a half-burned out gas station, Roy dropped the syringe and squeezed his eyes shut, counting the seconds and then the minutes, his voice low, harsh, a monotone of misery.

And, finally, the pain began to fade, replaced by a familiar warmth, a buzz, a pleasure too brief. He smiled, head lolling against the wall, and opened his eyes. There were others in the room, other teens high or searching for the high, some clinging to each other, some huddled by themselves.

He wondered how he could feel so lonely surrounded by so many.


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