Voids
Voids are hollow and unconnected. A fix feels like it's filling a void. A hair of the dog feels like it's filling a void. But the void hisses with leaks.
We seek conviviality when we use, but in the end there is nobody there but the drug.
Drugs are slatterns. They seduce indiscriminately, and don't give a shit about anybody in particular.
The biggest fear of someone contemplating sobriety?
“How will I spend my time? Who will I hang out with?”
We fear the void. We fear dangling tendrils and haunting specters. We fear, most of all, spiraling willy-nilly through the universe.