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I havent read the other response posts as I'm in a bit of a hurry Sandra, but I'd bet everything I own nobody is advising you to stick around with this guy.

I'm a recovering cocaine addict and I'm from an area that was quite literally torn apart by heroin in the eighties. I'm usually a bit different in the things that I do and oh how I thank God that that extended to my drug habit also! Our area was literally the heroin capital of the country, we had more deaths in one square mile than the whole of rest the country put together (I'm from Ireland) and that was the situation for our neighbourhood every year during that plague, and by God it was a plague, so I've seen enough of the damage heroin does to be able to authoritively tell you it is the worst drug on the face of the earth. I'll tell you a little story here, it may be of some benefit to you:

I once loved somebody very very much, I gave my virginity to him in fact, he was my first boyfriend. I was fifteen and he was nineteen when we first got together. We were too young and clueless to make a decent fist of the relationship, but it didnt stop us having fond feelings for eachother that never went away. We kept in touch for a long time and even tried again a few years later, maybe it could have worked out second time round, who knows? We were older (I was nineteen at that stage and he was twentythree) but you see it couldnt work out Sandra, because there was a third force in the relationship by that stage, there was me, him and there was heroin. That's the thing you have to remember and I know it'll be a hard thing to grasp if you havent experienced it, but believe me, when you are with somebody who is taking heroin it's NEVER just you and him; it's you, him and heroin, and here's another thing you'd better believe; heroin will ALWAYS take priority over you. His next fix will ALWAYS be more important than you are, not because he'll love you less, but because that is simply the nature of addiction.

I regard heroin to be a living thing. Maybe that's hard to understand, but if you've been involved with a heroin addict long enough to observe the way it affects the mind, body and soul you'll understand that this stuff has a character. It is evil. It exists simply to destroy, and it does so by the most sinister and devious means: it destroys by inducing the most beautiful wonderful feelings in the user, so, naturally, the user continues to use, until those beautiful feelings arent there anymore and the user needs to continue to use simply to hold off the horrendous withdrawal symptoms.

I truly believe that heroin is a living thing. I believe in good and I believe in evil and I believe that both are INTELLIGENT living spiritual forces. They know what they're about, they know what they're doing. I believe that heroin is the physical embodiment of an evil intelligence and if you'd seen what I've seen you'd believe it too. I've gone off topic here, so I'll get back to my story:

He and I split up, we went our separate ways and he continued getting deeper and deeper into his addiction. I developed an addiction of my own, to cocaine. Five years passed, I was clean about 18 months and I was sitting in a cafe reading a library book and drinking coffee. He walked over to my table and said "I havent seen that face in a while". I'll never forget his words. I looked up and saw his beautiful face and we both realised that the other was clean. It was a beautiful moment. We both just said "you're clean" at the same time. We sat there for about two hours talking, catching up on all the news, a lot of it not good. He told me of a couple more people we had known from our youth who'd since died, from heroin, needless to say. He told me about how he was three years clean and had gone to a treatment centre and then to live in an apartment he shared with two other former addicts. He was really enjoying his life for the first time since heroin got him by the throat. He was looking so well in his motorcycle leathers, he was working as a motorcycle courier. That was my last image of him, hugging me before I left while clumsily holding his shiny new black helmet. He smelled of leather and soap and aftershave.

He went to Spain for a holiday a couple of weeks after that and died of a heroin overdose in the hotel. The urge was just too strong for him, even after three years living clean. The urge never goes away Sandra, it's something a former addict has to live with forever, and forever was just too long for him, three years was as much as he could manage.

I'll never see him again. It's been six years and I'm still not over it. I'll never get over it. It's one of those hurts you just have to accept will be around forever. I dont know what else to say to you. I dont talk about this much, it's too hurtful and to be honest I am at this very moment trying to control my tears, even though theres no one here to see me and you wouldnt know I was crying if I didnt tell you. I'm just trying to make you see that there's no happy ending with someone who's being seduced by that hateful stuff. There are plenty of endings with heroin Sandra, but they are all premature and none of them are happy. I dont know what else I can say to you. I hope you make the right choice. Take care.

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