No Matter of Choice.

Author's note: I've never been to this place, and I hope that neither have you. But for every person who has wondered "why?" perhaps this will offer some insight. I am not saying that this is right. In fact, I will clearly say that this is wrong. But to see the other side, that is sometimes worth doing.
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As he knowingly stepped off into the void, his thoughts turned to his mother. And to the look on her face when they would tell her that her oldest son died with a needle in his arm in the backseat of a rusted out Chevy. He hoped that she wouldn’t blame herself, but he knew she would. That’s what good mothers do; they blame themselves when their children stray. And oh, how he had strayed.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hadn’t he done everything he was “supposed” to do? Graduate from high school, go to college, get a job. How could one mistake compound itself into a entire life failure? The irony of it all was that it was his fear of failure that brought him to this point. It was those self-manufactured expectations of perfection. He needed to be Superman, but in his pursuit, he mistakenly grabbed his kryptonite.

A missed promotion, a vow to do whatever it took to get to the top, an act of desperation. When he pushed down on that very first syringe, it seemed like he was still in control. Just take enough to make it through the tough assignments and hurried deadlines. But “enough” didn’t exist, and “control” was lie. He wasn’t choosing to take more, the “more” was taking him. Taking his thoughts, his interests, his values, everything. Including his visions of a future.

You see, he couldn’t be blamed for seeing no other options; his world beyond the internal had been papered over by suffering and the need to stop it.

So, he spent the last of his money on this one final hit, and sought out an isolated spot that would hopefully go unnoticed, at least until the smell got too strong. Then they label him the junkie he admittedly was, and his poor mother would be subjected to the terrible truth. Or maybe, they’d never find him, and he would simply slip into oblivion unnoticed, his mother worried, but never really knowing.

But grant him this, in his mind what he was doing was reclaiming his life, not throwing it away. He was stealing it back from the shadows the only way he knew how. And you know that sometimes stepping out of shadows means plunging into full darkness.