You know it's really weird. You get so used to living life with your addict, the constant ups and downs, you forget how blissfully simple life can be without them around.

Today is my day 7. I can't say this past week has been easy. I've had good days and bad days. More like good minutes and bad minutes. But I have come to realize that I do not miss the addict. I do not miss the mood swings of withdrawal. I do not miss the aches and pains associated with his illness. I do not miss his depression or his rage. I do however miss the man that he was before the heroin. That is what I mourn. That man is gone.

It's easier to think of him as being dead. I know that sounds awful, but it's the truth. He may still be alive and breathing but he is just a shadow of the man he used to be. Mostly unrecognizable. The familiarity of his eyes muted. The comfort of his smile a mere ink stain on a warped piece of canvas. Yes, it's much easier to think that the man I loved has died. Better than the alternative.

I'm still sad. Heartbroken. I had a major part of my life ripped from me by the most unfortunate of circumstance. I find myself re-learning how to live on my own. I find myself adjusting. A little lonely and afraid at times. I think too much. And I still cry. But I keep on keepin on.

I will make it throught to the other side.