addiction

it's too bad and I do so only reluctantly but in some ways it really seems as if my behavior could be compared to an addict's one. Barely coming out of recovery, some ill-spent but somewhat cleansing hours in rehab in which everybody around you thought they could explain you yourself and what happened with you, how you wound up there with all those wounds and so on. They all seemed to know what's going on and what you need and what will happen, comforted you and said it will be so much better once you get free and that they are your friends and you can count on them. Your parents too, they say you need to concentrate on yourself now and that it is probably better this way and that you deserve the best in life. Everybody has some advice that you may or may not have asked for. Not that it'd matter anyhow.
So you stumble out of this place, back into your old stinky room, find your way through the dark night to your old bed which might fall apart any second and you look at the trees outside the window and you think recovering addicts should defintely change apartments because this really sucks. They should also basically just start from scratch. Define the music anew that you like, throw your old records away. The same with clothes and food. And stuff. How about life.
So you sit down and roll a cigarette maybe although they said you shouldn't and you remember faintly that you did too and it is all such a blur because it took you just a little while until you felt like before you really can move on you have to say good bye to your best friend - your addiction - in a dark corner maybe and it just fits so well that the night is so velvety dark, it is awesome. I don't know where all this salt water comes from all of the sudden but with my alpaca teddy bear clutched to my breasts I sob into the dark night, trying to fight the demons of love crawling into my weak spirit yet again. My will used to be so strong I think and a surpressed noise escapes my lips. I used to be so free without him, before I knew him. And they say I will again. If I just am strong enough to overcome this urge to spin yet another thread with which I could fasten him to myself or myself to him. If I can just withstand the overwhelming mind filling idea that I need to talk to him just one more time, before the real deal closing time. It comes to my boggled mind that you have been a real addict, that you really recovered and that you know what it takes to get away. I wish you wouldn't use that for us, for me, for our love? A prayer always helps...
My hand shakes as I reach out to the phone but maybe it's the apathy that has overcome myself, maybe it's some hidden strong powers in my soul, whatever it may be: I manage to lay still and let the night wash over me. Half sunk half risen is my sailing ships masts and I try to spy the mornings at the horizon but yet I see none.
Will I?
Did you?