Cold
I remember my first love, my second, my third. I remember heroin.
I try to feel things, I just can't. Hollowed out, so very distant, that's how I stop myself from using, by watching from afar, I could be a character on tv, an actor, for all the emotion I can feel.
Men want to save me, as if that might save them. Like it's a contest, between them and heroin. They don't understand. In love, heroin will always win. It has already been decided.
I can't be your girlfriend. Or yours. Don't love me, because I can't love you.
Crushing my friends like old autumn leaves between my fingers. How can you fall in love so easily? I am a paper doll playing with scissors. I'm dangerous. I'm barely here. I'm barely anywhere. You love someone fictional, not me. I may not use heroin anymore, but it still owns me. Imagine, babies and picket fences now! I'd tear that fucking fence apart to get away. It would be nice to feel my hands bleeding for a bit, better than my heart.
I despise declarations and revelations. Don't tell me anything, everything you say gives me an excuse to use. Do you even see me, or are you seeing what you want to see? I'm messed up, I'm lost, I need to find myself before anyone else can.
I've trampled a bad path, hurting everyone. What are you all, masochists? That's my role. Go now, go.
I try to feel things, I just can't. Hollowed out, so very distant, that's how I stop myself from using, by watching from afar, I could be a character on tv, an actor, for all the emotion I can feel.
Men want to save me, as if that might save them. Like it's a contest, between them and heroin. They don't understand. In love, heroin will always win. It has already been decided.
I can't be your girlfriend. Or yours. Don't love me, because I can't love you.
Crushing my friends like old autumn leaves between my fingers. How can you fall in love so easily? I am a paper doll playing with scissors. I'm dangerous. I'm barely here. I'm barely anywhere. You love someone fictional, not me. I may not use heroin anymore, but it still owns me. Imagine, babies and picket fences now! I'd tear that fucking fence apart to get away. It would be nice to feel my hands bleeding for a bit, better than my heart.
I despise declarations and revelations. Don't tell me anything, everything you say gives me an excuse to use. Do you even see me, or are you seeing what you want to see? I'm messed up, I'm lost, I need to find myself before anyone else can.
I've trampled a bad path, hurting everyone. What are you all, masochists? That's my role. Go now, go.
posted by tui at 12:05 AM
8 Comments:
Tui,
Really brilliant piece of writing with some great insights. Love the paper doll playing with scissors image.
Have you though that our obsession is saving lost souls? Particularly when they are pretty and seemingly helpless.
The trick in our mind is if she'll just love me, let me love her, I'll help her shoulder her problems and heroin will go away. We're the knight in shining armor, the sheriff cleaning up a tough town. Sometimes we finally learn and sometimes we don't. Like you Tui, the object of our obsessions tell us the truth that we reject for it only confuses us.
Very
Powerful.
Perhaps the power/secret behind your writing is a lust for life that only shows up when it is too late.
It will take time for your emotions to return, that hollowed out feeling will gradually disappear. In the meantime keep friends and family close, people who care and aren't trying to change you but are there when you need them. It's wonderful to see how far you've come through such a difficult time. Be proud of that!
T,
very visceral
shaun
I've made a career out of trying to help people or save them. It is impossible. I solve one problem at a time. Temporary band aid on a wound that can never truly be fixed unless someone is willing to fix it themselves. As for saving lost souls, anyone who thinks their soul is not lost is a fool. Life is the way it is because it can't be anything else. Or perhaps I'm a pessimist. Any way found your blog through real gems, you have a knack for writing and I can't stay away. I hope you make it, I know some who have.
I always thought that I had a hard clarity burning bright on others. Turns out that that too was wrong. The kind of shrewdness an addict needs actually tells you nothing about an other person's internal compass.
Myself, well, I've tried to be the knight in shining armour regularly enough myself. Didn't work out real good, but I had to be the Don Quixote, didn't I. Then you run away from that to youknowwhat, at least it doesn't laugh at you where you can hear.
Took me a long time to learn to love the Don Q within me, that awkward well-intentioned stupid part of you that you want drugs and drink shelter you from.
I'm not there yet, but I am beginning to think that just maybe the people that claim to love me just actually might, sort of, though their love can never be as strong and pure as my love for my addiction. I am still figuring out how to mourn that rejection.
But it's all stupid words, another thing between me and anyone else.
Tui, you are helping me with your words, don't stop.
there is a way out of this hell u kno that right.
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