Real, Illusion, Just Two Sides. Which One Are You?
Previous - this entry written on October 21, 2003 at 8:17 am - Next
Pace. Turn. Clench.
It's an addiction, really. How do you fight an addiction? You wait it out. You distract yourself, you try other things, other situations. You hold on, because you KNOW it's just a withdrawal, that it's in your head, chemical, whatever. You keep breathing.
Pulse. Shift. Stare.
It's all about one simple thing: need. You think that you NEED something. You think that for whatever reason, if you don't have it the universe will crumble and you will be in agony/nothingness/hell/alone. Maybe worse. Maybe instead of that... maybe you'll still be here. Still fighting. Still needing. One more moment of torment that fire and ice and hate couldn't begin to measure up to.
Stretch. Snarl. Ache.
Everything you have, everything you are, you scream silently to the gods to take it if they'll just let you have IT again. Just one more day that doesn't end with this mind-numbing horrible lust that you can't slake. You're craving something that you don't dare put words to. Nice people don't want this. Good girls don't need that. You won't say it, can't say it, and instead you just watch everything crumble into dust around you.
Push. Howl. Dream.
This is you, sitting in the broken fragments of a hope that shatters over and over again. Everything tastes dry, dead. You can't feel yourself breathing. This is where you exist for a thousand thousand lifetimes, each second stretching into forevers.
This is you.
Nothing left but hunger. Two words, sliding past lips that should be cracked and chafed, two words that well up from the emptiness that you once again need ripped out of you, two words that could have been a drug request, or the name of a lover, but for you, this time, this place, your addiction is something else.
One more word, forced out by desperation.
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