It’s not about killing pain. Well, not really…
Am I an addict? I don’t think so — I mean, I have never really thought about it like that. Do I drink a lot? Sometimes, yes. Do I smoke? Sometimes. Yes. The painkillers? Well, it’s not really about killing pain, you know. Quite the opposite, in fact.
The thing is, the painkillers don’t relieve pain. They allow me to feel pain. Or, err… rather, they allow me to feel anything. No, I am not mistaken. They do allow me to feel.
When I’m sober, everything just bounces off me. A beautiful day? I don’t give a crap. Success at work? So what. Pretty girl looks at you? Fuck her; probably having a laugh at me anyway, you know?
But when I’m drunk, or high, or loaded, or whatever… I mean — it all just goes. The doubts, the baseline of feeling like utter shit… it all just goes. I feel I am me again. At least for a while. I think nobody notices, but deep down I know they know. It’s not a big deal anyway. Pop one and it all goes away.
Depressed? No! What I need — what I want, it’s totally different from anti-depressants. That shit just emphasizes the shit I’ve been talking about all night. You don’t feel anything any more. Right, right, you’re put in a blissful state of feeling “happy” instead of shit, but it’s all the same rubbish anyway. You can’t feel. I don’t want that. I want to feel. Experience emotions. That’s why I don’t want to kill the pain: I want to feel it, deal with it. Not ignore it.
— Uit: anonieme gesprekken.