Mind and body throbbing, you search for a cure. The pain clouds your thinking, and so does the addiction. Throwing open your medicine cabinet, you frantically search for that pain-dulling, mind-numbing substance you call your only true friend.

You finally find the bottle of pills hidden in the couch. You take a few, and sit for the next few hours, daydreaming of times past.

1972: Riding your bike down the main street of your hometown. Window-shopping all your favorite stores.

1978: Your high-school career is over, you achieved your diploma, and you can’t wipe that smile off your face.

1983: You moved out of town, out of state. Off to the Big Apple, where your new job has taken you. All your friends pleaded you not to go, but being a college graduate, with sky-high aspirations and an optimistic attitude, you didn’t listen.

1986: Your job cut all ties with you, and you have to dig into your savings to keep the apartment you have. Food is scarce, money even scarcer.

1987: A new job at a local restaurant opens up, and you readily apply. You know how to cook well with very little, considering the last year had been very tough. You are accepted as a chef’s assistant, and you quickly move up in rank.

1988: You become the head chef, and your paycheck is quite hefty. There is talk that you might even become the manager soon.

1992: The restaurant closes, shoving you and all the rest of the employees back out on the streets. You added to your savings well, so there was a good bundle left. You have no spouse, no beloved, no children. Your money can only be spent on food, rent, and other bills.

1995: After months of job-hunting each year, you have found nothing. You are evicted from your apartment. You have no money to your name, no belongings except the clothes on your back.

1996: You start selling marijuana, just to get enough money to get food. Later on, you start using it as well.

1998: You escalate to selling cocaine as well, only to get a bit more cash.

1999: The police crack down on you and start sniffing you out. You try to hide as long as you can, but eventually they find you. You are beaten, and arrested.

2009: Freshly released from prison, you have acquired a Vicodin addiction. The brutal beating from those officers resulted in chronic back pain. You only used them in the beginning for the pain relief. Now, you just can’t seem to shake them.

2011: Reminiscing of good times and bad, thinking of many past regrets, you wonder why you keep feeding the addiction. As you wonder, you pop a couple more…