You never really realize, or can comprehend the power of an addiction until you actually try to quit. They are cruel paralyzing beasts that once their grip is tight about you it only seems to squeeze tighter and tighter. It draws you into its sickeningly sweet embrace and holds you there, you with no will to fight it off. It becomes your closest friend and your worst enemy. Like a seductive animal it calls to you from the darkest corner of your mind with a voice so very sinister yet so very enticing at the same time. It bids you come and you almost have no choice but to obey its every wish and whim. Almost. But what happens when you rebel? When you fight with everything you have to pull away? To escape? It calls all the more sweetly, tenderly, longingly. It is the thing you want most but the thing you know you absolutely must not have. It is the mental manifestation of the alcohol, the drugs, the blade. It cries to you desperately through everything you do. You push it away but it clings to every shred of your existence it can grasp onto. It wants you. You want it. Your mind cries from the sidelines, its desperate pleading for you to resist. Not to give in. But it's voice, though merely an enticing, seductive whisper, seems louder still and resonates through your thoughts, tainting them with doubt.
"Just one cut won't matter. One joint won't make a difference. Who needs to know? It'll be our little secret." It calls sweetly. So you agree. You give in despite the howling and shrieking of your conscience. Then, once you've given in and submitted yourself to become a slave once again, the voice is gone. No longer there to help you keep your secret or plan an excuse. Not even there to tempt you further. It has returned to hiding. Lurking silently in wait for your next vulnerable moment. It waits for you to rebuild your defences, prepare yourself again for the attack, and then strike when a moment of weakness occurs. It creeps up and snares you the moment your back is half-turned. You'll make promises to yourself. You'll make vows to others. But in the end who decides the outcome? Is it you who decides to let go of the blade? Or the blade who decides to let go of you?