Category Archives: addiction

When focus was lost, hope is found

I was asked to write about a habit I developed on the streets, and I knew this wouldn’t be easy—because I developed so many. The thing is, I don’t always see these habits until someone else points them out.

The habit I want to focus on is survival without focus. On the streets, focus isn’t necessary. Once you’re in survival mode, everything else becomes a distraction. It’s wash, rinse, repeat. Attention to anything beyond survival feels like a luxury.

Now, focus is mostly lost to me. It’s hard to regain, and it feels like a luxury I can’t afford. Writing is already helping me notice it—but even small tasks slip through the cracks. Yesterday, I waited until after dark to wash the dishes because I kept forgetting about them. Little things like that pile up.

I focused all my time and energy hustling up drug money. When I got dope sick I couldn’t make money. And nobody would make money on my behalf. 
I had run out of options. But survival mode doesn’t stop. Anyway I had to I hustled- there’s no call it a day button. You just make that paper. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat

I decided to break the law by putting on a wig to cash a check, that wasn’t me. I was shaking visibly as I pulled in the bank, it’s what caught the teller’s eye, first I’m sure. Needless to say it failed so I was really sick and I just did something so morally off it screamed, focus Nikki, look at your life. What have I just done? There I sit stranded, sick, broke and all alone. It was my last straw. Writing this has taken me right back there, I’m in tears it’s so powerful to me

That moment I began to open my eyes. Addiction doesn’t just steal your money or your home — it steals your ability to see what you’re becoming. I had let it take the last thing I had left in the world: my self-respect. Without that I was truly lost… I knew I would not make it at the rate I was falling. I wasn’t falling I was dying. I decided I had one choice so I chose my life over drugs. It’s scary as hell but looking back  I almost just went home and got high. Thankfully I called an ambulance to get some help. I probably wouldn’t be here writing about it if I had chosen differently

The Grip Of Fentanyl

Fentanyl has a grip so strong, it feels like you cannot live without it. For too many on the streets, it’s not just a drug—it’s a cage. It keeps people stuck in survival mode, unable to change no matter how much they want to.
Some of us have families, people who would take us in without question. But those homes are drug-free, a concept we can’t wrap our heads around. They’re communities built on rules, boundaries, and structure—things that seem impossible when every day is dominated by chasing the next high. Fentanyl makes sure the streets pull harder than love.
The desperation it creates is powerful and consuming at the same time. People steal, hustle, deal, even prostitute from necessity not a desire. Even Stealing from each other at the  slightest opportunity because survival becomes a game of who can act faster, cheat harder, to protect their next fix. Trust gets buried under the weight of addiction.
It’s so bad that for some, jail feels like a better alternative. At least in jail, there’s food, shelter, and some routine. The chaos of the streets fades for a moment, and for some, it’s the only temporary relief from the life style fentanyl enforces.
This isn’t a story about laziness or weakness, it’s about a misplaced drive. It’s about a drug that doesn’t just hijack the body—it hijacks the life, demanding ownership and dominance. And until we understand it’s full power and address it, the streets will keep claiming people, one high at a time.