Don’t tell me I didn`t try, hard or long enough. I did. With every bit of me. But it was not enough. Still, it was. Because who said that pain and 1000 trials were equal “not do enough”. I am, fucking picking myself up – each bloody time I have been knocked down. Sometimes I am so paralyzed in disease clutches I cannot utter a word, even worse – feel anything. Because of this devastating, dreadful substance, that is my drug. Tonight I did the unexpected, I call him. It was not really me in person doing it, neither did I say much. Just listened. It was so much hope there, it was love and serenity. Unconditional acceptance. It was beautiful. There were the Higher senses operating – that only two addicts can feel.  I am not going to barging to you, yes I have started a life in London (not as fancy as in Paris) and yes I am doing fairly good on my psychology program. But, nothing nothing nothing will ever counts if I am not abstaining completely from my drug, one day at a time. Who am I to become a good psychologist that cannot even be honest with my basic needs? Fuck – it is definitely not a proper word – not to mention academic. But it is what I am feeling. FUCK. Fuck evil, disease, cancer, addiction, pessimism, greedy, selfishness, envy, injustice, discrimination, bullying and self pity.

My dear Jenny,

"It does not matter how many times you fall, it is how many times you get up that is important. Get up and live your life".

N

Ps. I am up. Again.