I still have hope.
Dear T,
Loving an addict is something I never thought I would have to do. I didn't think someone in my family could ever throw away who they are the way you have. I never thought I would ever have to say that someone I know and love cares more about their next high than anything or anyone else. Yet here I am.
You have lost every last drop of color in your skin, your hair is thinning, and you look like a corpse. Your body has no more to give before you wither away into dust. I've spent countless hours staring at my ceiling wondering how someone could ever give away their soul to an addiction. My google search history would show you that I never stop thinking about you. I want nothing more than to save you.
I know that I have resented you for so long, and I refused to believe your addiction was a sickness rather than a choice. My resentment was ugly, but it was because I was blinded by the cruelty of your disease. I believed it was all your fault. When you had your child taken away from you, from us, you didn't seem to care. The light inside of you had burnt out. You were cold, you were empty. You were gone.
I still struggle with accepting that this is part of who you are. The first step is to admit that you have a problem and sometimes I question if you truly believe you have a problem, or if you've just decided to come to terms with what you have become. Your addiction has become your escape and I can't change that your reality is dark. I can't make you see the light at the end of the tunnel, that's all up to you.
Addiction runs in the family, and it's taken me years to come to terms with that. You're not the only one I have loved with this disease, but you are the only one I have left. I don't want to lose you the way I've lost the others. I want you to realize that using drugs to cope isn't the answer, unlike them. I want you to know that you have a team rooting for you. I beg you to realize that you're killing yourself slowly.
I can no longer sit back and watch you destroy yourself. I refuse to stay silent any longer. There's still hope for you. I want you to know that I believe in you, and I hope you still believe in yourself. I want you to know that I love you with every fiber in my body and I wish you would see that you're not alone in this fight.
Love,
Madison
