‘it’s possible to love her even after all of this’ pills needles into arms spoons with burnt bottoms passed out on the floor drooling skinny starving convulsing
i knew when you lied about being over it you were still skinny i saw the needle marks in the crook of your elbow i saw the spoons in the back of the drawer i knew when you made me go home so soon your dealer was also your affair your husband, your ex lover your ex life, the opposite of living you’re dying you are dying and it is your fault and i have run out of empathy yes it is a disease yes it starts as a choice yes you were depressed but you still you.
“who cares i want to die anyway who cares i’ll ruin my body my brain my relationships my life”
the hope has left your eyes
what’s it like to look up to a destroyer what’s it like to love a broken woman what’s it like to watch the progression the regression the walking backwards one step forward but if you say “just one more time” it’s 5 steps back 10 steps back 20 30 the cut is deeper the scars are darker and you are gone.
what’s it like to admire an addict to be denied what you had to be ignored questions go unheard “where have you been? is everything okay? i miss you.”
you see the inevitable you hope it turns out different you hope she is the one in a million to miss a ruiner to cry over the loss to realize that you distanced yourself for this exact reason
it is sickening and you ask “what if” but “what if” isn’t “what is” so you vow to never go down that path so you pray you will break the cycle so you progress one step at a time.
to admire an addict in my case was to love someone who was considered unlovable broken falling apart “****”
i cannot blame myself but that is easiest to blame myself for the inevitable.