I’m addicted to pain pills. I’ve spent thousands of dollars on my habbit. My tolerence is so high that I now take 4 80mg oxycotin, or 10 methadone tablets plus 6 10mg percocets. It wasn’t to long ago that I screwed up really bad, and not paying attention to how high I was, I nearly died. The thing is, I don’t want to give up my habbit at any cost. Even my own death. For someone who does as much as I do, you would barely know it to look at me, except on occasion where I start nodding out. I’m connective, I speak pretty well, the only tell tale sign is the pin point pupils, and the green eyes, which are normally blue. I don’t want to stop, ever. But in my heart I do hold an enormous guilt to what it’ll do to my mom, my brother, my friends that love me, if next time I slip up to severe, I don’t make it back. And guilt to God, for needing an out from a life I can’t stand to live, but don’t dare to end.