I was hurt, not just by him but a fulfilment of unfortunate events. Events I can't clearly recall because I was in a state of denial, I seeped into every open arm in search of a love that neither my lost lover nor family could provide. It's selfish but how could I not find comfort in others, how could I not self destruct when inconsistencies wrote my life. I can't remember a single detail about him or that one down the street or in my bed or outside my house, **** I can't recall how many drinks I had or what drugs I was inhaling. It's no excuse right? I should be happy again, my family is back together and he's gone for good. So why do I feel the need to self medicate? Why is that when I sit with my family at the dinner table I can't help but desire to get lost in temporary highs? Why must I live in a melancholic state were all I truly feel is the need to do bad. I am bad.