The Adventure


As I ride home from work upon the Red Line(the infamous subway from Good Will Hunting), I can’t help wonder what all these people are going through in life.

There is an Asian woman and her little daughter I just gave my seat to and I wonder why they boarded the train to just get off at the next stop. I see at the end of the trolly car 3 high school football players, filling the atmosphere with their addictive laughter, one almost leaving his helmet and shoulder pads behind while they rushed out the sliding doors. There’s the woman sitting across from where I stand reading on her Kindle while the student standing next to me fumbles, and catches, his book, interrupting the story I don’t pay any mind about.

A girl removes and blows the inside of her glasses off and I stand wondering if I didn’t do a good enough job dusting myself off before I left work. I search around, swearing I’d find an obvious addict, and I think I found a kid who fits the mold- head leaning into his lap so far that others may wonder if he’s just trying to zipper up his fly with his teeth- but who am I to label someone when I’m no better then the next. Plus, I’ve been in his shoes not too long before.

I ask myself who in here has suffered a loss lately; a mother, father, a friend or a neighbor. Doesn’t matter who, as long as this loss has meaning- some importance and unknowing longevity the future has inteaded.

I listen to Eva Cassidys cover of Fields of Gold and think about the girl who broke my heart not long before my life came crumbling down. I close my eyes and see her bare back facing me as she sits at the end of my bed, her neck nearly breaking as she turns to watch me watch her, and I can’t help but lose my breath for that moment.

A man boards my car and stands beside me, lugging a cart on two wheels with a sign asking, “Is Satan Dead?” I’m not one to judge but I know this is my cue to leave. I pick my backpack off the floor and turning towards the slidding doors, the man with the cart looks at me and says, “God Bless You!”.

I exit and think to myself- same to you!

Author: Jake Mitchell

Writing nonfictional & brutally honest experiences, stories, & events, from my life; both before, during, and following my intense destruction of myself and the people who were around me. All because I lived a life of lies, manipulation, and self-imprisonment, just a few of the many truths when you're an Active Addict. Although I'm very blunt, I tend to (or at least try to) write as humble, selfless, & full of gratitude, while sharing some of the tragedies and situations which most likely occured due to my addiction and the way I exsisted during that time of my life, as I only cared about and fiened for my next high or score. Please comment on any material I post. Although I'm quite ashamed and embarrassed for most of the actions, decisions, and outcomes, that happened during my torturous years of Active Addiction, I don't regret any of it. Now, by writing about these true stories and events, I'm hopeful another addict can relate to my pain, distress, and the Hell of using drugs. This HELL, becomes therapeutic and important for my recovery, reminding me that I am not the o my person who has ever done or thought these things. And through relating, I may be able to help another addict.

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