I’m not sure I will ever understand addiction.
I get eating M&Ms until you’re sick and you swear you’ll never eat another one again. There have been times in my life when I have promised myself to stop something, make better choices, turn things around.
Maybe it’s all the same thing. Maybe I do understand it. I suppose it just depends on your poison and how quickly it kills you. I just can not grasp how a person as talented as Philip Seymour Hoffman turns back to heroine after 23 years. He was clean for all that time, well respected, at the top of his game and then started using again in 2012. Why?
Brilliant, subtle actor with three children and somehow what was in that envelope became more important, more vital to his happiness or stability. I’m not sure, but it feels like such a waste and so very very sad.
I believe the artistic mind is often active, stretching to see things differently. There can be weight and complexities that are difficult to absorb when a person looks too closely. Maybe some people turn to substances for enhancement, depth, or to dull the much observed life. I can not know, but there must be a point at which something that seemed like a good idea turns and becomes an awful burden to bear, in or out of it’s cage.
I understand the need to add weight, depth to your journey, but there’s deep and then there are demons. Perhaps it’s the demons that want more than a dalliance or a quick walk on the crazy side. Maybe it’s the demons, that allow the addiction to lie in wait.
I will miss Mr. Hoffman’s work. Shadows and corners can be scary places. It is heartbreaking when even those with such a beautiful light can not find their way out.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Nightlight, Please.
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