Thwarted

A long time ago, I was married.
About a year into marital bliss, I ran into some trouble. My husband had been addicted to cocaine for several years and only stopped using when we got together. Well, like any good addiction, it came right back up. I hated seeing him use the drug and started using it with him, just to prove a point. I wanted him to see how awful it was to see someone you love harming themselves so badly.
He'd do a line, I'd do two. Every time.
I hated it. Couldn't stand how it made me feel.
But like any good drug, I started to get addicted.
I'd get extra for myself and hide it away, use it when he was going to be out of the house for a few hours. Every time I did it, I'd get so depressed the next day. I began to really hate waking up and simply living every day.
I wasn't getting along with my new husband except when we were partying together and I didn't see anything good coming of what I was doing at that point in my life.
My husband and I had gone to Mexico and had brought back a bunch of pills from the pharmacies there. We had all kinds of great stuff.
One night when I was feeling particularly hopeless, I took an entire bottle of sleeping pills. I just wanted to sleep forever.
When I woke up the next morning in time for work with a slight stomach ache, I decided I wouldn't try that again.
I didn't use cocaine anymore and tried to get my husband to stop as well.
And he did stop, but picked up a new habit to replace the old one. At least this one wouldn't be so dangerous.