I tried not to love you.
Armor surrounded ventricle…no block
Cordial pleasantries exchanged…no fool
Bodies stand-in in nature…no matter
Bombardment of truth…no waiver
Time-lapsed days…no change
The art of pretending gave me no solace
It doesn’t work that way.
I boasted on how clean I was.
How I never had any addictions.
How can anybody get hooked? On a drug? On alcohol? On anything?
Just don’t try it.
As a woman who could quit drinking when she wanted, quit smoking when she wanted, quit meds when she wanted. I had the control. I showed willpower where others showed their lack of.
I knew my tendencies towards an addictive personality. Passed down the blood line. I knew not to go there with things I couldn’t trust myself controlling. Temptation and a rebellious nature have no business playing together.
But I failed.
I chose a drug…
I chose love.
A drug that has left me clinging to life. Not seeing myself in the mirror. Succumbing mentally and physically to its power. Selling parts of my soul for a taste of its magic. Bargaining my mind & body for its seductive touches. Counting the clock until my next hit. Trading respectability for its shallow promises of forever. Feening for its presence.
Cold sweats…fever…anxiety attacks…phantom aches…nausea…moments when I can barely breathe…times when all I can do is rock myself to sleep…nightmares that jar me awake. Keep me awake. Love I knew, I thought I had. Love that blinded my judgment. Love that was once fun & recreational became something dark & tainted. Love that played tricks with my mind leading me to believe it was good knowing it was the exact opposite. The highs so good…time paused.
But when the highs subsided…the lows told every truth I’d forgotten.
How did I let it get this bad? This desperate? How did I let myself get here?
Tears surface. I suppress them as I write.
The conscious pain lies beneath my core; I dare not acknowledge it. I’m keeping myself clean. I haven’t used in a few days. Not long enough but I have to start somewhere. I think about it every single day. I want it so badly sometimes I would kill for it. I tell myself maybe I can just have a little. I can manage it. I can quit whenever I want. But I can’t. I don’t trust it nor do I trust myself with it anymore.
Never will I judge another addict. I never thought I was until I realized I was.
“She’s imperfect but she tries
She is good but she lies…
She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone but she used to be mine.”
I remember watching the movie, The Waitress, years ago, which has now been adapted into a play and the soundtrack written by Sara Bareilles. One of my favorite singer/songwriters. The story is about a waitress with a beautiful heart whom everyone loves except the person she loves, her controlling husband. Her love for him overshadows the love for herself. She is better to others than she is to herself. Like those of us who want to see the good in everyone, we hope that the good in us will somehow make the ones we love value us more. She struggles to find her voice as it has been silenced for so long. Through her gift of baking, she realizes her passion, her dreams, and begins to imagine the life she always knew she wanted but never thought she could have.
Sometimes little parts of us die when we go through things but if we can push through hard enough & long enough, we spark the flame that ignites the fire in us. We may be broken for a while. We may lose ourselves for a while. Hopefully, for just a little while.
Seeing the parallels to my own life, I was immediately drawn to this song. Inducing those raindrops that fall only from the eyes. At first listen, it sounded like a love song of love lost and it is. Listening more, I discovered it was a song of losing oneself. The person she used to be. I misplaced the girl I was a long time ago and I miss her almost daily. I see glimpses of her sometimes and get excited. It gives me hope that one day soon she will return even better than before.
Even with its withered leaves, the beauty remains. The rose.
A random stroll
On a chilly Fall night
Her face illuminated by the street lights
Mine illuminated by her gaze
Two grown teenagers looking up at the sky
Star gazing, plane chasing
“Wait, which way is the airport?”
We became human compasses gauging east and west until we decided, that way
Wondering where they were headed
Some place we should go I was thinking
Suggesting we walk the neighborhood
“Let’s see how far it goes”
We made it down the hill
And just around the corner
Until the chill only an anemic can feel
at the bush on the corner
A bush in the neighbors yard
She kinda loathes flowers, roses especially
So I’m looking at her
Trying to pick this one rose
Almost fighting with it
I laughed and said
“They do have thorns you know
You have to pick it with your…”
When she yanked it free from its vine
Showed me her fingers like a child with a boo boo, “See.”
And handed it to me.
From a random bush
On a random night
In a random moment
She gave me love
in a single red rose.
I’m attracted to lights…
Glaring, piercing, shining, sometimes dull low-light but light no less…
Guiding lights? Sometimes.
Light forced through the blackest darkness? Mostly.
Sometimes needing these same lights to get out of the way…blocking my vision
because they can also make it hard to see my own way…
And I need to see my own way.
Asking myself: Should I wear shades?
I’d rather see clearly.
12:05 a.m. Up wishing I wasn’t up. Well kind of. I’d rather be up writing than doing anything else, unless it’s doing something else…but that’s two totally different ball games! 😉 Pandora has not been cooperating with me tonight. I was fully intent on being amped! Listening to Today’s Hits & all that kept playing was love music. “Girl..I love you. Do you love me? Sugar, honey, ice tea, flowers…..la la la la.” Like no. I’m trying to not think about the things I don’t want to think about. Like that very topic. After the third song, I just gave up. So now Sara Bareilles, Hope, & Corinne Bailey Rae are vibing out. Smh & Lol I guess the universe had other plans.
Now I’m listening to some song about Running Away With My Love…That would be nice as long as I’m coming with it. Don’t steal my shit & run off. I would not like that.
I miss it. Love that is. Sometimes. Once a month. Yeah, I’m pretty sure. That’s good enough. I’ve been single long enough to know I like “like” way better. It’s cute. It’s fun. It’s flirty. It’s safe. It’s comfy like a new pair of Hanes undies. Snuggle right in that. I don’t need some fancy, lacey Vicky Secrets. I mean yes, they look very appealing & intriguing. Makes you think, “I want a pair of these”. Now, you have to take out time to find the perfect pair. Perfect color. Are they cute? Is it sexy? Where am I going with these? I have to save these for a special occasion. Is this out of my price range? I’ll charge it & pay for them later. Hold up, What’s all this extra sh&% on here? Is this lace & mesh & bows & a zipper? Why is there a zipper? Which hole do I step in? I’m just going to sit here until I figure this out. Let me ask my friends what they think? Do you like these? Yes?! No?? Dang it, You’re no help!
This is too complicated. I just wanted something cute & simple. But now, I’m here making sure the lace is sitting just so, so it doesn’t snag up in my crotchal areas. Now, I have to readjust so the back evens up with the front..but I still see plumber’s crack peeking out of the top. Like shit. This is just not worth it! I’m going commando!
“Omg, Thank you Universe! I can breathe now! Whewwwww…” (Hearing the sound of the winds) Feel that? Feels like freedom. Why didn’t I do this before? Wait, it’s a little chilly. I need something to cover up with. Something comfortable to keep me warm. Ooh, look what I found? These comfy undies……
The saga continues.