Ecstasy

• Noni Munro-rogers, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2021

It’s bad for me, I know it is. I’ve been aware of the problem since I was young. I’ve fought and struggled against it for so long, I really have, I promise. I have to give in, I do. The battle against the addiction is too strong. The need to consume outweighs the problems I will feel the later, the pain that will befall my body. I’m only 12, I’ve got no self-control, how can I be expected to hold myself against this? It’s right there. The pain, oh the pain. I give in. The temptation is too strong. I try to hold myself back as I reach for it. Once it’s in my hands, I can’t explain the release. My shoulders loosen, my head clears. Everything is fine. The crinkle of the chip packet is like music to my ears. Double chilli jalapeno chips, oh the pain I will feel later.

I don’t care, it’s worth it.

I’m 16 now. I know self-control. I haven’t had chilli chips in years. I laugh at myself when I think of the stupidity of holding oneself back from a packet of chips. I should’ve just let myself have them. That’s not addiction. I knew nothing of addiction then. I wish that 12-year-old me could see his friends now. Gaunt, pale. Nothing like me. I’m thriving, I swear. You should see me. I’ve got no problems in the world. I’m happy, I’m joyous and I rarely remember my bad days. I have bad days, sure, and they’re bad bad. But so does everyone, I’m fine. I’m fine. Ecstatic, in fact. My friend throws something to me, I can’t seem to catch it. My mind’s working too fast, I’m buzzing, I’m alive. I can’t read the label. I can’t see the words. Oh well, it’s a pill bottle, I know the shape like I know my left hand. It’s part of me. I shake the bottle, one left. I open my mouth, I can feel myself coming down, I can feel the sadness seeping in like a chill on a cold day. I can’t let that happen. I throw the contents of the bottle into my mouth. Oops, that was more than one.

I don’t care, it’s worth it.

The feel of the metal on my feverish skin. Cold, crisp. I’m 18. Life’s not so good at the moment. Oh, to be 12 and worried about a chip packet. What have I done to myself? I’m hot. Too hot. The ecstasy I once felt left long ago. I’m like my friends now. A shell of who I used to be. They probably felt the same as I had, not a care in the world, happier than humanly possible. I didn’t realise, none of us did. It’s too late now, they’re all gone. Gone, gone, gone. I think I’d be happier if I were gone, too. The pull of addiction becomes likened to the pull of a rip in the ocean. Relentless, unforgiving, and if you don’t know how to get out, you’ll lose, and you’ll drown. I am in that rip, and I was never taught to get out. I am slowly drowning in my own mistakes. The click of the barrel as the bullet locked into place. The last sound I thought I’d hear.

I survived. I did care, it wasn’t worth it.