I am obsessed with losing you. I am obsessed with your using.
I am obsessed by all the signs and flags and flares that were thrown up that I ignored in my almost selfish pursuit of happiness. It was too much to think that I could find another person that made me laugh that could be “normal”. I misread all the cues. I am now thinking about heroin again. Not thinking about using it. There were silent promises made and broken on a daily basis.
I dismissed myself in this process. As I received a steady diet of half truths, I settled into the idea that there must be something wrong- me of course. I thought it was me! How unsettling that is in retrospect. I blamed myself for your problems. I have become truly sick again. I have become immersed in the language and the mannerisms of a using addict believing them when I should be strong enough to recognize.
Do I enjoy the familiarity this scenario brings? The cryptic messages my brain feeds me screening out moments of truth? I have skated in this direction for many years. I have just never dove headfirst into the pool without checking the depth of the water. That water is all the tears I have cried over the past few weeks trying to figure out how I could get in this place.
Why in the fuck do I even care. Why the fuck do I keep going over this over and over again? I am so fucking mad at myself for getting caught in this fucking bear trap. Do I keep pulling at myself until I get ripped apart or do I try to strategize my great escape. These feelings are totally out of place in the fabric of my life. Who fucking cares right. Just let this go.
Like a tragic comedy, I hear the chorus inside my head telling me that something was amiss. You went back to it. While I raised my hand at the meeting, you pushed the plunger deeper into my heart. While I tried to be well, you wanted to get well. I am no better than you. We are absolutely the same person. We are both dying. The exception is that I am dying on the inside and you are waiting for the day you don't wake up.
Down, down, down. Waiting for the phone to light up. A text that tells me what to feel. I'll be there in thirty minutes. It is over, all over, again.