Sometimes I watch him, day in day out.
I watch him in the grip of his addiction, how he rages against himself the need of the drug, of the escape he wants from life. Sometimes I wonder what life has done to him to make him hate it so much – the hold of the drug seems to revolve around his inability to cope with everyday living.
Is it cruel to live, when you struggle with life itself?
I am only an outsider, but I see the war he wages with himself.
It is a struggle I cannot begin to understand, for I do not have the privilege to know him that well, nor do I presume to do so. I do not know where the drug ends and where the internal problems begin.
It seems baffling almost to see someone with so much going for him to struggle so much.
I wonder if there is anything I could do to help at times, and I wonder if help would be welcome at all. I wonder if he would lash out at my intention, or shut me out entirely – and I wonder if this his own personal hell that he has to walk through on his terms, in his own time.
I have always believe that God does not give one more than what he or she is capable of, but it does seem like He feels like he is capable of a lot, and perhaps he does not see it himself, or chooses to keep himself blinded from his potential.
I can only watch, and it is painful.
It is lust. Intoxication is d addiction. In d many of it form. U kno wut it is. People escape it in d many of its way.
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