My Romance with Addiction 

My Romance with Addiction

By: Jenny Alforria

He walks besides me,

lays in my bed

He caresses me

while he tells me how bad

he wants me dead

He kisses me softly,

I’m trying to hate him

but I love him instead

You would think he’s a real man

but he lives in my head

He massages my shoulders

telling me to sip a drink and pop a pill.

He buys me a rose

while he steals

He steals my joy,

sanity

and peace of mind

While he softly pulls a mask over my eyes

He tells me I’m beautiful

when he tells me to put poison in me at night

He gently gets on top of me

while he tells me to get high.

He tells just do it one more time,

you’ll be just fine.

No one will know, just sip this drink….

please just get high.

He tells me it will be ok

just do one line,

just this one time,

but the reality is one time turns into two,

two turns into three,

three turns into three times too many

to the point I will give up on me.

This is the reality of my disease….

dependency on substances that will kill me.

My body craves for death,

my disease whispers to me to just have one drink.

My brain is twisted,

my thoughts distorted,

and my body shouts out for a high

that last temporarily.

All to make me lose my mind, body, spirit and all my good opportunities.

My disease tells me to give up

and give in to a temptation.

This disease kisses me,

lust over me,

and there are times I smile at it….

and there are times I hold its hand too.

But i can’t make love to addiction any more.

I can’t get consumed.

I have to acknowledge addiction doesn’t love me

it wants me dead.

denial comes down on me

when I don’t want to accept the truth.

Addiction will never be satisfied,

never quenched,

never full.

Addiction lives with me

and constantly gets in my head.

And even when I hate it….

I love it instead.

Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

By:Jenny Alforria

 

I look in the mirror all the time,

hoping that I see

Something other than ugly,

maybe someone other than me

I look in the mirror

with feelings of not being good enough

For the people who see me

I want to know why,

but there’s probably not one miracle answer

to the question that I seek

I look in the mirror seeing that I’m weak,

until I put on my makeup to cover up the low self-esteem.

I look in the mirror seeing all the imperfections

I wish I could instantly change,

not just the image, but also the pain.

I have been mistreated,

unloved,

abandoned,

and literally had the door slammed in my face.

And these things that were done to me,

is apart of the image I see everyday

Emptiness becomes unattractiveness

Fatigue becomes fat.

And I look to the mirror for validation of beauty

that I can never see

Because I can never compete

with the self-image I want to see.

I debate whether or not

I hate the woman inside of me

or the woman I see standing in front of me.

Or do I have a level of hate

towards all the dimensions of me

If the image changed,

would I finally be comfortable within me?

Or if I changed within myself

would I see my physical image differently?

And if I become good enough for society

Would I ever be good enough for me?

Or if I become good enough for me

Would it matter what society thinks?

But all I know is when I look in the mirror

ugliness is all I see.

Superficial

Superficial

By: Jenny Alforria

My wounds make you feel uncomfortable.

My depth scares you away.

My intelligence makes you non functional.

And my heart is too much for you to take.

My strength intimidates you.

My seriousness confuses you.

My goals make no sense to you.

But my exterior beauty attracted you

and fooled you.

You thought I was just another pretty face.

It’s a shame because my interior is even more beautiful,

But you rather run away.

My Trapped Soul

My Trapped Soul

By: Jenny Alforria

 

Pass the exterior is my soul…

My ego has had its daily dose

I feel like I can conquer the world….

But if you look deep within

you’ll see the little girl.

Oh yes the ego has been stroked

But not the soul…..

The void is this bottomless pit 
with a superficial glow……

never have I made love to someone

never did someone really know

Buried deep inside is that little girl

who never got the chance to grow

She’s lost somewhere still in that abandoned home.

And I have become addicted to all these superficial things…

But deep inside somewhere I want help

Somewhere inside I want others to know I’m suffering.

That I want a deeper love than the high I get from percocets and zanies.

But don’t know where to find it

So drug addiction became the closest thing

Pass the exterior is my soul

and inside I’m suffering.

Active Addicts as Parents 

Active Addicts as Parents

By:Jenny Alforria

Mommy!

can you play with me?

Daddy!

can I come in?

Mom where’s Daddy?

Daddy where’s Mom?

Mommy pleasseeeee!

can you play dolls with me?

Daddy pleasseeeee!

can you take me to the game?

Mom and Dad

where are my Christmas gifts?

Mommy..I wish I can have friends over…

Daddy….I wish I can be like all my other friends

Mommy and Daddy I feel so alone..

Mommy and Daddy gets sick,

vomits,

and lose weight

Kids make fun of your Mom

Kids make fun of your Dad

DHS takes you away

Daddy dies

Mommy commits suicide

You become an addict just like them

Then you grow up

and you’re told to get over it

and let it go….

Birth of the Dark Angel 

Birth of the Dark Angel

By:Jenny Alforria

 

I have to live in the darkness

to live in the light

I have to embrace the chaos

in order to take flight

I have to feel the pain

in order to feel joy

I can’t run from the darkness

that gave birth to my soul.

It’s ok to be a dark angel.

Many don’t know that….

constantly searching for happiness

takes people’s souls.

The constant fight for happiness

causes addiction to drugs and material things

Sometimes living in the dark

is what your soul needs.

Avoiding the pain

causes you to run to deadly things.

Embrace those tears

it is what your body needs!

Have acceptance of the pain

that gave birth to your soul.

Running away from darkness

causes destruction of your soul.

When this dark angel plays

no one understands

That the pain created her

That she’s free because she’s sad

She no longer goes on endless drug trips

To escape the trauma she has endured

People don’t understand

the pain is the cure!

She accepts the terrors

and the trail of tears

And the robbery of her childhood years

Pain made her beautiful

Pain made her the woman you see today

This dark angel is me and

I am no longer ashamed ❤️

Mental Illness

Mental Illness

By: Jenny Alforria

 

When you wake up early in the morning

you have no motivation or energy to even get up

Depression tells you lay there

Anxiety is afraid you won’t get up

When you have to meet with a friend…

You unexpectedly have a flashback

and may have a panic attack or two

You take medicine to calm you down….

Then you sleep past the time you were suppose to get there by.

And then you’re anxious everyone will be mad at you….

You got to be to class

and you got 4 hours of homework to do….

looking at the work overwhelms you….

anxiety keeps reminding you that your assignment is late….

So you come up with an excuse,

but the reality is anxiety and depression is why the paper is past due.

You got to go therapy…

there are days you may be too depressed to go.

You know you need to go there to get help,

but at the same time you don’t have the energy to go.

Your boyfriend wants to take you out on a date,

and you would love to go,

but you feel too ugly to even go out.

And too much of an emotional mess to get ready to go…

The choice is to be happy,

but everyday you must push yourself past these barriers that keep you down.

Everyone tells you

to just be happy…and be positive

no one sees how hard you try every day to do just that.

Everyone talks about how you isolate

and spend too much time alone…

but not those small but challenging steps…

when you make a phone call,

or get to an appointment on time.

No one sees how hard you really try to fight for your life.

This is what living with a mental illness is like.