The I'm going to be here. In my experience, addiction doesn't change who you are, not really.

Imagery of zombie-like wards of pockmarked

tweakers with nothing to lose, yellow clothes that used to be white, green teeth that used to be yellow, and a river-like affection for turning normals inside out

are rooted in the darkness of IRL addiction, but their populations on TV vastly outnumber those

found in the wild. In fact, most drug addicts I've known, I didn't know. Didn't know about the depths of their addiction, I mean.

Not until they reckoned with it themselves and brought it to the group.

Then, naturally, we shunned and ostracized them for fear of having our toasters stolen and fillings traded for the world's last surviving quailute.

But before we did that, it dawned on us. You can't really tell who's an addict a lot of the time.

Drugs and alcohol can indeed devour a person whole, especially in my fan thick about the

sentient baggie of cocaine that ate Manhattan,

but it takes longer than you might think.

That's one of the worst parts actually, watching a loved one sink into the quicksand at a rate of half an inch a year,

and wondering if they'll ever grab the branch you're holding out.

But it's also one of the best parts, because it gives us more time.

To intervene, not that that's always possible,

or just to appreciate our loved ones,

all of the other parts of them,

before they do, sadly sadly sink out of you as will we all.

We will all die in quicksand.

I'm sorry if this is the first you're hearing about it.

So addiction doesn't really change who you are, not wholly.

For example, I like words.

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