Jan 2014
I think back to when everything was simple, when he was alive and we were all whole but then he broke us and we never fit back together.
Life used to be carefree tentative smiles and excitement over coffee shops and we all had so much potential and drugs were the plastic bottles in our bathrooms, taken with caution.
I think of how many friends i used to have, and how everything has been superficial since we all put ourselves in plastic boxes on unreachable shelves
These days I have no motivation and I want to see the sun. Happiness is as fleeting as the snow on the ground before the wind sweeps it up high above he trees.
I used to be the snow, and I didn't care where I landed. That's why I wasn't very surprised when he took advantage of my innocence and unstable hold on reality. But that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't still shudder when people come near me, or wonder if I look broken to them.
I see him in school and I remember his eyes, innocent, as they ask for forgiveness, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that he had taken the last thing that meant anything to me, or that he was the last straw when I made that fateful decision last year, or that I STILL wake up gasping from having nightmares starring him, or that he causes me to stay up late into the night feeling completely alone. That he stole my already feeble ability to say "no." But I'm wiser now, so I forgave him even though his arms felt like needle ****** when he hugged me.
Recovery is long, and some might say I'm not recovered at all. It's been a year but I still think about death every day. I'm in love, but I hate myself every second I'm not with him. But none of that matters, because now I know that I will always choose pain over oblivion.
I've found a delicate balance that can be destroyed by one gust of wind, but I'm trying to be better, and that's more than I've ever been able to say.
I don't want to say that a song saved my life but the song is his voice when he tells me he loves me, and the screams in my head when I don't want to continue, because at least I know I'm alive.
Sometimes I miss the people who have left me and the girl I used to be, but it's over now, and it's best not to dwell on things that I can never change. Because recovery isn't the number of days passed, but allowing time to heal you.
It's allowing yourself to feel better, because only you can give yourself that permission. It's learning to love yourself, and to accept everything in stride. But most of all, recovery is forgiveness.
Forgiving others for what they've done to you, but more importantly yourself, in any condition, the way the shore forgives the tide which leaves but always comes back for more, because the ocean loves the sand more than we can comprehend, and that's how we should all love ourselves: unconditionally and during all weather.
Life used to be carefree tentative smiles and excitement over coffee shops and we all had so much potential and drugs were the plastic bottles in our bathrooms, taken with caution.
I think of how many friends i used to have, and how everything has been superficial since we all put ourselves in plastic boxes on unreachable shelves
These days I have no motivation and I want to see the sun. Happiness is as fleeting as the snow on the ground before the wind sweeps it up high above he trees.
I used to be the snow, and I didn't care where I landed. That's why I wasn't very surprised when he took advantage of my innocence and unstable hold on reality. But that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't still shudder when people come near me, or wonder if I look broken to them.
I see him in school and I remember his eyes, innocent, as they ask for forgiveness, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that he had taken the last thing that meant anything to me, or that he was the last straw when I made that fateful decision last year, or that I STILL wake up gasping from having nightmares starring him, or that he causes me to stay up late into the night feeling completely alone. That he stole my already feeble ability to say "no." But I'm wiser now, so I forgave him even though his arms felt like needle ****** when he hugged me.
Recovery is long, and some might say I'm not recovered at all. It's been a year but I still think about death every day. I'm in love, but I hate myself every second I'm not with him. But none of that matters, because now I know that I will always choose pain over oblivion.
I've found a delicate balance that can be destroyed by one gust of wind, but I'm trying to be better, and that's more than I've ever been able to say.
I don't want to say that a song saved my life but the song is his voice when he tells me he loves me, and the screams in my head when I don't want to continue, because at least I know I'm alive.
Sometimes I miss the people who have left me and the girl I used to be, but it's over now, and it's best not to dwell on things that I can never change. Because recovery isn't the number of days passed, but allowing time to heal you.
It's allowing yourself to feel better, because only you can give yourself that permission. It's learning to love yourself, and to accept everything in stride. But most of all, recovery is forgiveness.
Forgiving others for what they've done to you, but more importantly yourself, in any condition, the way the shore forgives the tide which leaves but always comes back for more, because the ocean loves the sand more than we can comprehend, and that's how we should all love ourselves: unconditionally and during all weather.
