I never knew who I was. It was like being tossed from foster home to foster home - never having a base. I never felt anything long enough to create a personality around it. I was drunk, I was high, I was down, I was up, I was low, I was on top of the world. It was a constant overwhelming roller coaster - and it hasn't ended. There are just no more drugs. The drugs gave me warning. As little control as I had - I still had it. If I wanted to be up: I knew the pill to pop, the line to take (and I knew when the crash was coming and what caused it). That's the worst part. Now I don't know what causes this ebb and flow. I can't explain what turns my smile into mascara stained tears. I'm failing - miserably. I'd give anything to stabilize myself. No, that's a lie. I like being what I am. I relish it. I beg to be different and I see my pain as something unique even though there's nothing new about my story. Hundreds have gone before me. It's all a lie. I'm a mess. I really should just give up because it doesn't get better then this. I can't even fathom not hurting like this.