Once upon a time lived a girl who though that nothing could save her.

In the end she saved herself.

I was watching Oprah today, (yes I know, daytime t.v. is for people with too much time on their hands) and there was a woman on the episode who begged Oprah to help her get off drugs.

Today at work, a regular told me about the fact she was attending narcotics anonymous.

Why do things like this make me angry? Why do I feel like they're taking credit where credit isn't due? Why do I believe that they're weak?

Every night I dream of getting high. Every time I hear it mentioned, I miss it. But I didn't fall to my knees and request help from perfect strangers. Or really anyone for that matter.

I woke up one day and decided to get my life together. I decided to save my life, instead of lose it to a feeling. But why am I so angry at those who can't do it on their own?