There are some things people can't choose -- their names, gender, skin color, sexual orientation (buzz off if you think otherwise), and if they're plagued with a disease. My Grandmother passed away from cancer and trust me when I tell you she didn't choose this. I watched her go from vibrant and energetic, stealing money from the Monopoly bank, to barely speaking with a gaze in her eyes.

It has come to my attention recently that people feel as if addiction is a choice as opposed to a disease. I can see both sides to this coin as people don't pick up cancer and shove it inside themselves. However, what I can also see is their uncontrollable desire to fill a void that for some reason or another has left them empty.

I should start off by saying I have never used a drug. I've never even took a drag of a joint. So my view may be naïve, but follow with me.

I have loved and lost so many from different variations of these poisons. I don't blame any of them for using, I just wished in some way shape or form I could've helped them more along their journey to recovery. So my point of view is only from my shattered heart.

At 23, I have attended more funerals than weddings, or college graduation parties. My black wardrobe certainly has a purpose, I just wished it would be for a nightclub instead of a repass. Every time I get a phone call from the same person twice I'm almost positive that I'm going to get news of someone else's passing.

What I have experienced is loving an addict. I have loved so many with my whole heart, multiple times. Whether that be friends or ex-boyfriends, they mattered to me. Unlike others that date one addict and know another, I don't pretend like I can fix them when they know they need to fix themselves. What I didn't understand is that that urge makes them choose drugs over love every single time.

When you spend time around an addict, most of it is spent worrying and hoping they'll change. You deal with things you wouldn't normally, you accept things that you know make no logical sense. For instance, they may say they're around the block for your very special date. So you rush outside only to continuously call their phone to find out they're actually not coming at all. They certainly never left the house.

A couple months ago, a good friend confided in me in telling me that he too is now plagued with this dreadful disease.

Like cancer, I told him to attack it head on but only if he wanted that sort of help. At this point he didn't. He chose heroin over a friendship, again. Weeks went by and I hadn't heard what choice he was making. I didn't want to push as I've heard they need to make this decision on their own. So I left the topic up for him to talk about. He never did.

We drifted apart, not fault of mine or his. Life happened-- jobs and children. But on his end, drugs came in the way of holding a steady platonic friendship. Then a month passed and I got a call from a rehab facility. I felt blessed. Finally.

Something had clicked inside him that he needed to change. I wasn't going to question it so I praised him that he was willing to accept that he needed change. He has been in this particular rehabilitation center for approximately three months and that's three months my heart doesn't have to worry. My mind is clear as I know he is laying his head down somewhere safely, instead of him going to different cars searching for the next thing to steal and pawn to get his next fix.

I was happy he was there but concerned that his dance with the devil wasn't yet over. He still currently resides where he belongs, where help is available at his beck and call. I wonder if he knows now or if he will ever know how his disease has affected his loved ones.

I play with the idea constantly that maybe he hasn't grasped the concept of all of these outsiders being there time and time again for anything he needs. Recently he has begun resenting me for offering help. I don't think I can fix him and I think only he can fix himself. I haven't given up hope for his bright future, but I do believe, unfortunately, that he has.

I have been plagued with this disease of a heart that refuses to turn her back on those in need. He is not the only person my heart goes out to that is drowning from this life sucking illness. He is one of many. I cannot fix anyone.

I want you to know your loved ones can help if you just allow them to do so. We can hold your hand and guide you along your journey to sobriety.

So from here on out, my phone is open to calls as hotlines are for those in need.