...can't find your ass with both hands.

I know a little bit about wasted potential. When everyone was telling me I had to go into some math related field, I didn't do it. I didn't want it, and decided that just because you're good at something, that doesn't mean you should devote your life to it. Whether or not it was the right thing to do is one of those questions that can't be answered without a time machine, or guardian angel named Clarence. But still when you waste such potential because you'd rather be a junky, and you just live your life one fix at a time, for some reason it doesn't seem like the same thing to me. Maybe it is. Maybe it's your choice to not use your vast creative talent, and would just rather spend your life vacillating between sick and nod. Just because you're good at something... Your choice, right?
Some friend of yours is gonna have to find you dead. I just want to make sure you know that. That's the only way these things resolve themselves on their own. I'll never understand. So you make your friends sad because they're watching you slowly kill yourself. You pick up on how you're making them feel, and it makes you want to crawl deeper into that hole. When I see my friends who cleaned up, I'm so happy and proud, and I know how lucky we all are to have them with us. You could do that too, along with so much more.