Like a plate of glass the rush shatters, leaving you cut up and in pieces. It hurts. That high you attained, in comparison to this, was brief and only mildly pleasurable. Pills. You need more. You need more pills so you can make the high you seek last. If only it could last forever. You tell yourself that you're a better person because of it, but some people would tell you otherwise. Your family and friends are worried, but they don't understand. You don't control them anymore, they control you. You need the pills to repair the rush.