fear of death

Fear of death isn't so foreign to most people, but junkies don't seem to have that gene. Our and our friend's/companions' life essence is slurped out all around us, seeping into soil six feet down. We can't aknowledge the fact that we're not invincible. Insanity! I am not a fucking superhero. I am not super anything. I can and will die. Where are these thoughts when I've got a needle hangin out of my arm and blood dripping on my pants, when I'm teetering on the edge of the grandest ravine thinking that I'm gonna fly?? Am i,a junkie, so special that the death gods can't touch me?Why are Nick, Brian and Kris dead at the bottom of the ravine and I'm still teetering? I need to know there is a purpose. I need to feel passionate about something other than dope. If my destiny is fulfilled, then I'm through. But, here I am,lingering. Invincible! Bullshit! I don't know how to stop the fantasy. How do I live without the clever guise of dope? This clean thing- I just don't get it because I'm clean and I'm miserable. How do we find the unattainable? Where is the sunshine after the rain? Is there such a thing? How do I work, socialize, learn, love, do anything on a sunny day? Mr. Sun hasn't seen me in ages and peeking from behind those clouds, he's fucking blinding me.