i wish i could explain to you why i relapsed. wish there were words in the english language to explain it, or any language. see, you look in an addict’s eyes and see sadness but when i look in them, i recognize it, that, that spark, whatever it is, that little part of our brains that bypasses all reason and is just looking for the drug. we call it addiction, because we can’t find a better reason. but there is one, and all of us junkies are connected like a conduit, and whenever we see one another, we know. we know how bad it’s been since the last time we saw you, we know if you’ve relapsed, we know if you’ve relapsed bad, and we know if you’ve relapsed but haven’t told your sponsor or your family. it’s there, all laid bare, whether you like it or now.
that’s why you, sally, are such an enigma to me. every time i see you i can’t get over how perfect you are. and it’s not just the makeup, or the perfect fashion sense, it’s … i can’t see anything in your eyes except you, except … a good life? i don’t know, i don’t know what it is, i mean that in a good way, sally. you came from good stock and it shows. but when you see me here like this, pumped full of methadone, and i look at you, i can tell you don’t understand what’s going on. and i can’t explain it to you, no matter how hard i try. i just need it, and sometimes when i don’t have it i’m fine, and other times … i’m not. i wish i could explain it, sally. you’ll just have to trust me when i say: it’s a bitch.