[size=2][/size]I have started to write a book _base_d on my life as a heroin addict, I've been clean now for 10 years and really started this project to exercise some of the demons I carry around with me regarding my past and I thought it may make a good read or even better to help others in there addiction.
This is my first ever attempt at writing anything so honest feedback would be much appreciated.

Thanks

As the sound of morning TV filled the room the swirling of anticipation and the tingle of excitement started to flow through a seemingly lifeless body in the bed, turning over to face the telly Ady reached down and started to scratch his foot and started to recall where he had picked up this bloody athletes foot, that summer of 1994 he thought, in Gran canaria, what a holiday that was as images and sound bytes bounced around in his head of a 2 week orgy of girls alcohol and drugs, maybe this is all where this really started as the rubbing between his toes came to a crescendo, why does that feel so nice he thought.
Looking at the time on the TV he knew he had about an hour before Toby was going to be picking him up for work so slowly pulling himself out of the bed and beginning to stand, suddenly clutching his stomach and doubles over in agony as a wave of pain rips through his intestine, “fuck the shower” he whimpers “I need to sort myself out” urgently pulling at the bedside table drawer, his hand scrambling inside pulling out a Golden Virginia tobacco tin, undoing the lid he starts to panic knowing the next pain wave was imminent, “stay calm stay calm” he keeps repeating to himself “This will all be gone in a minute”, emptying the contents onto the bed grabbing a needle and pulling the orange protection cap off with his teeth at the same time scanning the room to see where that belt was he took off last night, spying it at his feet bending down and grabbing it he quickly puts it around his arm and pulls it so tight that the buckle digs into his flesh but so strong was the desire for what was in that syringe he barely noticed, smacking his arm to bring the vein up he walks over to the other side of the room and flicks the main light on, “Give me a fucking vein” he says in an assertive tone as if ordering his body to do as he says, before his eyes fixed on his arm the next wave of pain builds in his stomach until he is on the floor banging the carpet and crying with excruciating pain, just then there was a knock at the door “Are you ok in there?” It was Laura the landlady, “I’m ok” a feeble voice says back “just stubbed my toe on the bed” he says picking himself up off the floor and sitting back down on the bed, “Ooooh I hate it when that happens” she says her voice trailing off as she heads down the corridor and into the kitchen.