My admission about how strong a grip the drugs still has on me--and how that makes other people view me--makes me nervous. Is he judging me?
Suddenly, Aiden sits up, brushing off his thighs. "No."
The irritation in his tone throws me. "It's because they think you're bad. Because you do something that's bad for you. Drugs destroy you. They kill your body, riddle your mind with holes. And they cost—money, time, dignity. You end up making shitty decisions to get the cash to get the high. Use all your time searching for it. It's not the high that's a problem. It's the consequences of what you'd do to get out of your mind—and how long you'll say high if you can—completely check out of life. If you were doing something that made you feel that good, that didn't cost you, didn't tear your life apart, still left your mind free and clear to do what needed to be done, they wouldn't call you an addict. They'd call you a happy person."
