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At age 12, I started resisting growing up. I felt ageless, in an aging body. There was a distorted connection between the demands of my body, what society asked, and “me being”.

Torn apart between two worlds, I was the one lost in between.

The Feminine surrounded me with its “receiving softness”. Yet, for my lack of listening, I saw only with the perception of desire, lust, and possession. I wanted to make it mine. My own twisted version of what is the “woman”, asked and sucked, more out of me.

The child and his dreams, were shadowed by the aggression of man and his nightmare.

It was inevitable, like Life itself, that I would resort to heroin. I wanted something that I believed I didn’t have, and that same thinking, demanded of me to look “outside”. That, was the nightmare. That, is war, greed, tyranny, fueled by desperation. Just to put a clear picture for you that is reading this; imagine yourself clinging to your last breath, drowning, buried alive. I thought that Life is like “that”…and from “that” I wanted to get rid of, irrelevant if it meant dying.

See what causes you pain, and try to see if you love it in a way that you want more of it, or if you are unable to let it go.

“That”, is addiction.

End of Part 1

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