This is a poem I wrote when I was heavily clubbing back in my mid twenties. I thought it might fit here: I love my drugs and my drugs love me. Nothing compares to that feeling of E. But give it 2 days and the love starts declining, I’m exhausted and teary, can hear myself whining. I’m starting to think that we’ve had a good run, so many memories most of them fun. Es happy still raving, Es constantly happy. But my mood is depressed or just generally crappy. I take Wednesday and Thursday to chill and reflect, I think we’ve still got a few years in us yet. Fridays come round and my doubts have all gone. What was I thinking, I feel guilty and wrong. I love my drugs and my drugs love me. I really dont know what just came over me, the weekend we spent the whole 2 days together, we laughed and we danced, was the best weekend ever. So what we forgot we should spend time in bed, loves more important, i’ll sleep when I’m dead. I feel like I’m standing at deaths door today, I look tired and spotty, my skins looking grey, I must have the flu, I’ll go back to bed, I feel totally drained, aching jaw and mad head. I’ve phoned into work, said I’m feeling so tired, you’ve got no more sick days. Well I’ll hardly get fired! It’s hardly my fault that I’m totally drained, they rushed through induction, I’m not properly trained. But so what if they sack me, I dread every day, I’ve got a few savings been stashing away. A few months off work, just my drugs and me, rekindle that love that’s been missing lately. A rest from the office, no stresses or strain, I’m sure that’s what caused those weird zaps in my brain. It’s prob stress building week after week. I dance at the weekend and never feel weak! I barely touch food and I’m dancing all night. I’ve got excercise covered and eating is right. I bet you I start to feel really renewed, there’s only so much work one person can do! if I don’t start improving and feeling so fraught, I think I might have to consult with the court. I’m so weary, and stressed and it’s no fault of mine so I think compensation is rightfully mine. But none of that matters I’m finally free and I love my drugs and my drugs still love me.