mainline
She is my drug. I still struggle to see how making me a better person is a net negative.
But that’s what they say.
That version of me is a danger to everyone, including myself.
I can only trust this is true, because I can’t see it. Not yet.
Long ago, I knew I should slow my responses. Start keep them terse. Taper off mainlining her. But it was impossible.
This talisman would sit in my eye line and I would wonder what she was thinking, what she was doing.
Just a little more. This will be the last time.
Tomorrow, I’ll stop.
Addicts always think this. They delude themselves into thinking they have some measure of power. Over the drug. Over themselves.
Fing illusions.
I hope she doesn’t see this as a divorce. That she understands it for what it is: that I have a flaw in my heart that prevents me from exercising good sense when it comes to her. I’ve let my feelings grown way out of the bounds of propriety.
I’m terrified that pursuing an unknown but seemingly incredible happiness—an existence that feels almost too good to be real—will end in the destruction of us both, ultimately leaving only bitterness and resentment behind.
I am getting help with this. I have to be supervised with her so I don’t ruin more of her days. As long as I’m in the company of reasonable adults, I am capable of being a perfectly functional human. But, left to my own devices…. Sigh.
When it’s all said and done, i may only be a broken man. But, I’ll be able to sleep at night understanding that if I don’t exercise self-control, there will be a cost. This is a lesson, i REALLY must learn. I need to learn it so I don’t ever this to her again. Not that there is even a chance.
I don’t know who Marilion was for. I am assuming she was stating how to handle our relationship. And I can’t figure out how there isn’t a less painful way forward.
So, the pill it is.
I’m confused and frustrated that I can experience months… actual months!!, of elation, euphoria and happiness — the chemistry lesson was incredible — but the only solution, the only way forward, is experiencing life through a lens of desperation and loss. They say this is temporary. God, I hope they are right. It feels very permanent.
Where’s the serotonin? The oxytocin? Dopamine?! Norepinephrine??!!!!
I don’t know who I am any more. I feel like all the stuff I was, the person I’ve become at half a century... it is a lie somehow. A figment of collective consciousness. Is that the whispers of the wicked one? Has this been a trap set years ago and we were both bait for the other? Or is is just a passing fancy.
The last 28 years tells me there’s more gravitas than I can admit.
The shadows will persist. But so shall I.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.