When life burns...
His eyes were red and bloodshot, his voice scratchy. His body was tense. He frowned to make a straight face. Every bone in my body was screaming, “I know you’re on drugs!”. With no stammering words, no track lines and no lingering smell of alcohol, there was nothing I could do.
“What?” he says.
“Nothing.” I lied.
I can’t tell you how many nights we spent like this. Him, out of sorts, and me, trying to find proof of my husband’s drug abuse. I very rarely found any.
You see, my husband was not a “visible” drug user. He used cocaine, which is undetectable to the naked eye, “to stay awake” and keep himself in a constant state of synthetic joy. He knew to never use enough that it was obvious. No one knew he had an addiction.
For the longest time, even I didn’t know...
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