An Addict's Rant

Eyes, they speak a language of their own. They always do. It’s so very difficult to mask what they say. It’s hard to lie with your eyes in league with your mouth and brain. It’s hard for your eyes to say anything else but what they actually want to say. But those who master the language of the eyes rule their own little world, the world of their immediate surroundings, the people around them, even the strangers they meet.

Anyway, it’s hard not to have what you CAN have, but might not NEED to have, knowing that you can easily have it. It’s hard to be restrained to one if you’re so used to getting everything you set your eyes on, even if that one is everything you ever wanted. Primarily because you are so used to getting whatever you wanted, if not immediately then pursuing and eventually attaining what your end goal was. And this ultimately becomes a sort of habit, a sort of addiction which is hard to let go of. An addiction which one shouldn’t be slowly weaned off but must have a clean break from once and for all, no matter how horrific the withdrawal is. A clean break though, is hard to do. I’ll tell you why, once you develop a familiarity with the state you’re in, the state in which you always try different drugs and once you’re done, there are so many more to choose from so much more to try and so easy to attain, sticking to a regular drug a regular taste a regular feel and a regular high makes you feel utterly unsafe, absolutely unstable and completely insecure, no matter how amazing and intoxicating the stuff is no matter how safe the gear you’re using is. You just feel like you’re in unsafe waters, in uncharted territory. It’s a world you haven’t seen or felt in a long long while. You’re utterly happy, totally ecstatic, you’re loving the trip but the unfamiliar environ and the unfamiliar weather keeps you from totally engulfing yourself with this amazing feeling this drug you’ve shot up your veins is drowning you in.

Yet once you have decided with total conviction, ‘Yes, clean break, no more, I’ve found the stuff I need, I have all I want right here.’ You’re okay for a while but then the inner urges almost kill you saying, what a waste of resources, what a waste of talent, what a waste of life, of everything, you moron, remember the high you’d get? Remember the exhilarating feeling? Remember the feeling of achievement? Remember how invulnerable you felt? How much in control you were of your world? But then this other heady feeling tells you how short the high was, how worthless it all felt after a while, and how useless the entire trip was. How I’d crash with boredom till I found another chase only to get bored again. And here I am with something which has substance, which has everything I’d really ever want, or need, and MORE. A ‘constant’ high, with no crashes the next morning, a perfect drug.

‘Hang on to it’, I tell myself.

‘Don’t lose this drug in the process of shooting up again with another drug or a concoction no matter how hot it may look on the cover. You know once you unwrap them they’re all just the same old worthless shit. You know that the literature on the cover is just a bunch of words to get you all excited, it may for a while but when the light of scrutiny falls upon their nakedness there’s nothing to be found, no more thrill to be had. Just a short uncertain trip ruined by the anticipation leading up to it which doesn’t match up to the actual trip. And then what? Move on to the next prettily wrapped drug? No. Just hold on to the perfection of this one, to the smoothness of its trip, to the happy ride you always have, to the excitement it always brings, to how it pleases your brain, to how it soothes your heart, to how it enters your dreams, to the boredom that never comes.’

So then how do I counter all the other tempting drugs who’s wrappers promise a brilliant high, a different high and at times a very alluring evil high? How do I resist when they don’t need any effort to acquire? How do I resist if they make a deliberate effort to find me and keep trying to add a teasing bit to the stuff I’m cooking so they can give me a twist of their taste in my usual stuff? A tinge of evil, or a tinge of lust or a tinge of short lived ecstasy…… What do I do, take my gear and run? Isolate myself? Or just give in and add them to my best stuff to satisfy my craving for the ultimate high which might just kill who I am?

Kill me if I waver. I don't want to die a guilty man.

Rethink, Rewire, Reboot, Move On

Epiphanies are really odd things, if I may call them things that is. They hit you like a loose brick from the balcony of a building you're walking under. And and once you've dealt with the immidiate shock of what you've just realised you wonder why you didn't get hit earlier. Subsequently of course you begin to take stock of the numerous realisations and answered questions that have been dumped onto you in that one infinitesimally minute moment of time. I for one, wrote everything down not that its the SOP, I don't have epiphanies too often to lay down an SOP for them, but I did, lest I forget anything important. There was so much information balancing on my head, all piled up, one sudden movement and it would have all fallen off.
Anyway now I'm sitting going through whatever is scribbled onto this little piece of paper and there's just one thing that I can deduce from it all. That is, being at sea, has changed me, unfortunately for the worse. I didn't like this conclusion that I'd arrived at. But this is how it is. I obviously would never be able to notice this change since I was the one going through it. But the people present before, and who are still here after, can. How I'd wish everyone would help out and tell me strait up, but life's not as simple as I'd like it to be and not every one's at straight forward. People like to drop small subtle hints here and there in the hope that I'll get it and that I'll realise without getting hurt as compared to a more blunt and direct approach. Well, I'd actually appreciate the latter. But then again not many people know me well enough to know that. But anyway, a lot of rewiring is needed in my head and a lot of modifications are underway. I some times think I was more in control of myself and my brain when I was twelve, more sensitive to change and the world around me. Now I'm more like the character 'Moose' from the Archie's comic books, who's reaction to everything he didn't understand was 'Duh' followed of course by aggression, which stemmed form the secure feeling of being the only thing he knew would work out. in his favour for sure.
It has taken a year to bring about these little yet damaging changes within me. Some hardly noticeable and others quite obvious. What I don't know though is how long it will take for me to get back to normal. But then again what was, is, or will, define 'normal'? I guess till I'm not satisfied with the state of my mind, body and soul, I shall wear a T-Shirt that says:

Caution Work In Progress
Do NOT Operate

And I guess I will need to buy eight of them, one for every day of the week plus one backup so I don't get impounded in the CDC again, this time for being a stinking Bio Hazard!

Shaken and Afraid

It has been two nights now, if this lasts more than fourteen then I'm in for a lot of trouble. A part of me wants this feeling to last more than fourteen days so I can be certain about what I'm feeling. You all know my fourteen day theory. I needn't explain more.
Last night whenever I closed my eyes I saw her. Yet when I opened them I realised how unfair I was being to whom I was with. Fifteen minutes into it I didn't really care anymore since my current bed buddy had already screamed in ecstasy. I closed my eyes just to see her again. I wanted to, I needed to. I wished it was her I was holding right now; wish I was making love to her all over again. I hadn’t planned for this, it just turned out this way. A part of me wishes I didn’t see her face whenever I closed my eyes yet the other part wants to dream about her all day. Just as a part of me wants her to obliterate my fourteen day theory whilst my other self, who made his opinion heard in my last post (one way highway), wishes that her memory just fades away.
It was disgustingly wrong of me to do what I did, but I did it all the same. I thought of her all the way through, her eyes, her lips, her face, her skin, her bosom; how soft she felt against me, how perfect the kisses were, how comfortable I felt when we cuddled, until I finally let go.
We both turned over and lit a cigarette and had another drink, I made myself a really stiff one, I needed it.
I felt a hand run down my spine and I turned to look into a pair of eyes that had a lot of questions. I felt so low; I was being such a dick. But I said nothing.
I sat in the balcony; the moist breeze that was blowing didn’t dry my sweat. I was so engulfed in thought that I didn't realise I'd been out there for more than an hour. So much was going through my mind but none of it led anywhere. It just depressed me more since I found no solution.

When I got back to the bedroom my blanket was hijacked. I knew what was expected of me but I couldn’t do it. I just lay on my back all alone on my side of the bed and watched the ceiling hoping it’d come alive and transport me where I truly wanted to be right now.
I woke early, collected my stuff and left. This escapade was supposed to be fun. It turned out to be a disturbing eye opener. I realised a lot but that just added to my already confused state of mind. And now I stand with a head so jam packed with confusing feelings and thoughts that I feel I’m sixteen years old all over again. I don’t like feeling the way I did when I was sixteen, I don’t like not being in control of my feelings, my actions and my emotions. I feel weak, I feel vulnerable. I am afraid.

One Way Highway

Why do I fall in love with all the wrong people? Why do I fall in love knowing that I can’t have the one I love? Why am I always so stupid when I’m in the fullest of my senses?

How did I fall in love with her? What happened? What was there between us? Or what was it that I felt when she was in my arms that made me feel the way I did?

I can’t express myself to her about this. I don’t want her to distance herself from me. I want to hold her close, even if it means not letting her know how I feel about her. I can’t expect her to feel the same way about me. I can’t tell her that I want her, I need her, and that I love her. But I’m sorry I won’t be there for you for the major part of the year. I can’t tell her that I want to have something more that we already have, but you’ll have to wait for me five months at a time. Such is my life, such is my occupation, I can’t afford to attach myself to anyone. I’ll just end up hurting them as well as myself. I don’t care about hurting myself. But I do care about her. I do want to have her in my arms all day long. I do want to spend a week in bed with her, doing nothing else but cuddle up to her. I do want to be there for her every time she needs me. I want to hold her hand in mine forever. But I can’t. I won’t ever be able to be with her for more than a month at a time in a year, two if I’m lucky. I can’t expect her to wait for me, a guy she doesn’t even know, a person she’s just getting to know. Someone she’d not trust beyond her nose since she knows so little about me. I want so much to just give in, to show her who I am. So much that I need to let it all out in secret tears since it won’t come out in words for her. I can’t. All I can do is hold up the best smile I have when I see her. And have her nothing else but happy when she’s with me. So for the precious little moments we have left together, I want to be happy with her. That’s all the privilege I can afford without hurting her. I don’t know how she feels about me; I don’t have the strength to find out either. I’d rather have her close to me, as she is now than have what I feel for her push her far away.

I had given up on love a long time back. I wish I could still feel cold and void of that beautiful feeling of love. Since I don’t have the ability or means to make it work, to see it through. I can’t hold my hand out to her and ask her to hold on to it through what I have to offer, an almost constant state of yearning and loneliness. I have nothing more to offer but my love, my life and my word that I’d give anything for her love.

I'd give anything to have you forever.

Snippets

It’s cold again. I needed a smoke, it’s not my house, I must smoke outside. Coming home isn’t always easy, isn’t always fun. I love my parents, but meeting them is always an odd experience. I love them to bits and they do me, but as much joy I derive from seeing them and being back in their sanctuary is underlined by the immense sadness I feel realising that they’re fighting against time. They’re growing old. Succumbing to the ailments of old age. I hate to see them having to compromise to the realities of time.
“What? Do we look that old? We’ve just reached our half life, we have a long way to go son.” Is all my mother said to me with a comforting smile when she read the thoughts right off my mind.
It’s not like they’re old and losing their battle against life. Nor do they suffer from any sort of disease or terminal illness, it’s not like they can’t walk gracefully or stand upright without help. But at this stage, not as upright or as graceful as I remember them through my childhood, or as I’d like them to remain throughout their lives.
I’m such a kid when I’m home. Lazier than a lion. I still get the utmost comfort with my head on my mother’s lap with her hands gently stroking my hair. Helping dad around the house with minor modifications, repairs and carpentry. Still being his assistant although I could do the job myself. I do love being home.
Catching up with friends of course is another story altogether. I get to know details about their lives that they omitted in their correspondence with me while I was away. Because it was too tedious to type all the details or for it was too important a detail to be put in words and was better told as a long tale over the phone. Its fun listening to these tales though, especially when they involve a story that began just before I left and is about to end just as we speak. I have the rare opportunity to study their change (sometimes a total 180 degrees) like the before and after pictures one sees on TV or in magazines; without my mind having to process the transition from their point of view in the beginning to that at present. For instance one of my friends had just gotten into a relationship with a bloke (whom I thoroughly disapproved of) and at that time she was head over heels for him, within a week of them going strong she’d been discussing with me long term plans about their relationship and its ultimate culmination in marriage. She’d been going on and on about all the feelings and all the other bloody bollocks that pollute peoples minds when infected (even temporarily) by the poison on the tip of Cupid’s cursed arrow. When the initial infatuation passes a normal person usually sees the world for what it is and notices this arrow sticking out of their bum. And one thinks, ‘Hello? That’s not supposed to be there is it?’ and yanks the bloody thing out. Now that she’s pulled that stinker of an arrow out of her bum (not sure which cheek it was though), she suddenly sees and senses the real world. She sees the inadequacies, the imperfections the incompatibilities the et cetera et cetera that is to be seen by a clear minded person. Now I get to hear all of the bloody bollocks that she suddenly realises about her present sweetie and their dying relationship. I’m always tempted to say, ‘I told you so’ because more often than not, being seasoned in all this bullshit and totally disillusioned with life, I know where the tale is going to end up by reading into the making of it, the characters involved and its beginning. This one wasn’t destined for a ‘….and they lived happily ever after’ climax. So now I hear the rant, of a woman who feels she’s been wronged, expressed in all the fury of a woman whose mind is now infected with so much anger and scorn that I can feel the speaker of my handset burning under my ears. I never did tell her, ‘I told you so’, I didn’t have the heart. But such is my state after just a short tenure on this earth, that rather then feel genuine empathy, sorrow and pity for a friend in distress, all I feel is a smile inching up my cheeks waiting for the phone connection to die so I can flip my head back and laugh at life and its rules that never seem to change no matter who the players are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not laughing at my dearest friends or at their state, just at life. I guess no matter how hard you try or what you do, you will end up in the groove that is etched for you on this playground of life and you shall ultimately follow it till its end.
Just when I thought life was going to be just as simple and relaxing as it is every time I return home I had a dose of classic tragedy slung at me. It involved none other than the unnamed heroine of my first post (Chaos). She and I haven’t spoken in a long time. That is of course until yesterday, when after a series of e mails that she initiated we got back in touch. I don’t mean to say that I regret it, just that I hadn’t expected myself to react the way I did.
The first e mail that she sent out of the blue one day caught me so off guard that I couldn’t stop shivering. Seeing her name in the inbox alone had engulfed me in that unforgettable feeling that I’d get every time we were together. Everything and I mean everything just came back in one flash. It felt good in the beginning with the happy moments, the love the intensity of our relationship, the warmth of our every caress. Alas, this feeling was soon laced with sadness and longing and eventually complete and utter hopelessness. I was helpless, almost paralysed sinking into the chair with the whole world vanishing from view and just this feeling, so intense that I can’t explain it in words. I have no counter for this, no defence; I never had and never will. After what seemed like an aeon, my hand, still shivering with this feeling running through my body reached for the mouse and opened the mail. The contents of the mail made my heart sink. All the sadness that I’d thought I’d never feel again in my life, I felt at that moment. For about a day I was in a daze. A world of my own where I’d see and feel life like I did back then. She’d opened up a deep wound that had just begun to heal. I replied to that e mail which was a question, with a true and straight answer, resisting the urge to mention anything else than what was asked. Eventually the mails became more frequent, each friendlier than the last. She wrote to me like she would a friend. Like everything was normal. I couldn’t do the same, but I did. I didn’t want to be unfair to her and load her with my issues. “I still love her that is true, but she probably doesn’t, hence the normality in her tone of the words she types. She’s happy, the way you want her to be, leave her be that way and help her be that way”, that’s all I thought whilst replying to her. Each correspondence digging deeper and deeper into the past and unearthing the thoughts and feelings I’d thought I’d forgotten and was incapable of feeling. It effected my days and my work; it affected everything I’d do. She still was the only person, thoughts of who were capable of occupying my whole body and soul. No one other than her. I saw where I was heading and I didn’t want to go there, not again. So, I asked her politely to leave me be till I get back on solid ground, till I get back home. She did.
I called her when I got back. My hands shivering more with every number I pressed on the keypad. I composed myself as best I could. I didn’t want her to hear my heart and what it was yelling out. As we spoke I got to know a lot about how she was and how her life was going, not from what she told me, but from the tone of her voice and her inner voice that always spoke to me without her permission. I guess I pulled it off pretty well. I was normal through the entire conversation that came to an abrupt stop thanks to my phone minutes running out. But the message that needed to be delivered had been delivered.
If you’ve read my first post (Chaos) then you’ll surely know the villain of the post. Well as it happens in the twisty ways of life now the villain is the hero and I the villain. How?
Well she told me they’d broken up, no actually, she’d said they were not together anymore and that she’d called it off temporarily. When I inquired as to why, she said that she felt she was being unfair to him. Upon digging deeper I was told that he was a little upset that more often than not she’d end up mentioning me in her conversations with him. I’d keep popping up everyday. In the beginning he was understanding since she’d just broken up with me and hoped it’d wane away eventually but apparently it never did. I ought to feel happy about this but I didn’t. She wasn’t happy about it. Her inner voice had already spoken to me, it said that she truly loved this guy, she’d been with him longer than she had with me. She’s probably been happier with him. And she doesn’t need to go through the extreme highs and extreme lows that was the essence of out intense, short lived, yet unfinished time together. She was comfortable with him, happy with him, she loved him and his company is what her inner voice screamed out to me and the memories of us and the memory of me that stuck onto her mind had ruined it. She was unhappy because of me. I was responsible once again, for making her sad. I wasn’t a happy person when the phone cut off. I derived no pleasure from her sadness, I never had, never will. Her slightest dissatisfaction would worry me, she wasn’t meant to be anything but gay and merry. Now I was really worried. How, without doing anything at all or being directly responsible had I managed this? I needed to help her. I needed her to stop thinking about me, to help her forget me, to erase me so she could be happy with him, the hero of her present life. I am the villain; I’m the culprit of her currently ‘on-hold’ relationship. I’m the thorn imbedded in the sole of her foot that pains her every time she walks.
Good God! I have to work against all my feelings for her that still prevail. I have to suppress my heart that wants her back so badly and go through the ordeal of making her successfully inert to my existence. To make myself, our love and all we’ve been through and all I’d done to make our relationship work, a totally insignificant chapter of her life. Such is my plight, such is my responsibility such is my duty since I can’t bare to see her feeling anything other than happy.