I might had nothing in the end, but to a certain extent I had everything. That’s how one feels; when heroin comes in action, everything else loses importance.
The junk had become at the center of my life, it was the only priority. So during the afternoons I preferred being alone. I had a girlfriend, friends, but my social life was no longer of any interest to me.
I often preferred to lock myself at home, watching movies, listening to good music. And draw sketches.Every now and then I stayed there with the music turned on, taking inspiration from my favorite comics.
With pen and pencil, mainly in black and white. I loved those drawings; I copied them in my own way. When I was drawing, I thought about nothing at all, I turned my brain off.
At least I thought. In fact, it was the few moments I actually expressed what I had inside.
So, in my silence, I transferred my mood on paper. I colored, and I traced lines. It certainly wasn’t enough for me so that I could release all I had inside.
But when I pulled out my drawings, in community, I realized then what I was doing. I came across my demons once more; I saw their shadow, beyond that white sheet.
That was what I felt then; Huge, terribly strong feelings that I hid behind those characters. I’ll draw again because I like it. I still love the silent relationship I had with myself in those moments.
But today I can understand what really happens. I was thinking of drawing, getting the brain out for a while. Today I understand what drawing can do to the soul of people.