26.07.2022
Have you ever been so deprived of intimacy that the moment you meet someone who makes an effort to know you, you jump right into the deep dark deliriously dreadful water of supposed vibing, holding your breath and telling yourself that there's a pocket of existence right at the bottom, where the air is so full of tranquility that it will get you high?
It's gonna suck if this life is just a simulation.
I sit in my living room, nursing placebo symptoms with a positive COVID report. I do feel on-edge, tired, groggy, but do I? I sit in the living room, a rare but recently uncommon sight/occurrence owing to the fact that there is now an actual table in my living room to start with. I sit and I write, instead of working, because I suddenly have an excuse to pretend that responsibilities aren't hovering right behind these shoulders. I sit in this living room that altogether reminds me of the progress I have made in life. Everything looks fine. I've managed the survival part of life, by a margin. This is survival with cravings. I still do not have a cure for the emptiness inside. I've acclimated to it. I acknowledge it like the chill in the air. Nippy, ever-present, and just mildly uncomfortable, until it has me shivering at night-time in my sleep.
I did not need to find a cure for the voice in my head. I managed to parlay with it. It no longer shouts, or condescends, or drives a hard bargain for why the value of my existence is only the lunch I buy, or an empty bottle of whiskey and an aborted foetus. It only stays silent, watching my sense of ego screaming at my body at 6AM to open the wardrobe, take out the t-shirt I need to wear and go for a run, while my body autonomously slides back into bed closes my eyes, drifting me back into the subconscious, embraced by the warmth of the sheets pulled back over me on a cold morning.
What is love, if not something that cannot be found, but walks in your door when you least expect it? Something that bum-rushes you from a corner, not giving you time to breathe or get used to its presence until there is no escape. Something for you to be consumed by. To overdose on. There's nothing quite like love that finds you when you're not looking for it. You're holding your tea, getting ready to face the brunt of the day, and it pokes its way into your life, ever-present. *Until it isn't, of course. Where is the line between love and attachment? Is it love to want it all? For you to want all of them? Their darkness, melancholy and anger included? Is it attachment because you don't want to cherrypick only the parts of them that you like and are being greedy? What differentiates your desire to want to be with someone from your need to not feel loneliness? Is it attachment because the former is a desire and the latter a need? Would it be love if the former was a need? What the fuck am I on about?
This is neither love nor attachment. This is a drug overdose of a different calibre. It will still leave you high and dry when it passes, but it will make sure nothing else will give you a similar kick. You will keep going from one high to another, trying to make yourself feel something that resembles the intoxication of the one person you wish you could keep in a jar and hide away from the world. It is the best kind of overdose. You know it is coming, but you do not care either way. After all, if you feel sad or hurt or lonely, at least you are feeling. And you cannot remember the last time you felt anything at all. I dont have COVID. This is just a fever dream. Withdrawl because I haven't had a whiff of you in a while.
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