She could never understand the excruciating self-loathing that came with realization that the one vice that had once helped that kid make it through the day had silently morphed into something he couldn’t make it through a day without. She would never understand how it felt to transition from controlling your life with something you once enjoyed to becoming controlled by the very thing you now despised. I didn’t tell her any of that, though. Because I couldn’t. Because it wasn’t fucking good enough.
