Escape

No matter how hard I try to escape it...
Everywhere I go, those people, and those vile things find me. Everywhere I battle the possibility of another relapse.

Drugs. Everywhere. And it's not as if it matters whether it is my drug of choice or not. Anything can send me right over the edge.

Spring break only lasted the span of one week. And I am so ashamed to admit, that I decided to "make the best of it" and "go all out". Why not? It was just one week. Fooling around with drugs once every great while isn't going to draw me right back in, is it?

So it went something like this:

Thursday - Somas, Vicodines, and Oxy
Friday - Beer, tons of Jager, and Oxy
Saturday - Soma and Oxy
Sunday - More Drinking
Monday - Heroin and Speed
Tuesday - Weed and Cocaine
Wednesday - More Speed
Thursday - Finally sober for a little bit
Friday - Lots and lots of beer, Vodka, and Jager
Saturday - Two Ecstasy pills
Sunday - More Jager
Monday - Dropped an Adoral

Okay.... Not gonna lie... I think my binge did spill out of Spring Break a little bit. But... It's Thursday now and I haven't done anything since Monday.

I don't want to relapse. I really really really don't want to relapse.
But... I don't know how much longer I want to stay sober.
I'm already spiraling. Why not just go all the way?

I need an escape. I need a fucking escape.

ERASED

In her eyes and smile
You've seen the beauty
Of a long and since
Forgotten ambiguity

And when the stars
Have ceased to shine
And the earth stops spinning
In response to altered time...

You make one last wish to see her face
And without warning she disappears
In an overwhelming plethora
Of empty space.

Forever
She and you
ERASED

Used and Abused

It isn't every day your mother calls you a pervert and a degenerate. It's not every day she tells you to go be the filthy spawn of Satan somewhere else.

I suppose she loves me. She must... After all; she gave birth to me. But, it doesn't work that way.

I'm a horrible person. Sometimes, I hate myself as well. I did this all for someone inconsistent. I hear the words, "I love you," but they don't share the meaning my words do when they leave my mouth. My love is strong and biased and desperate. My love is unwanted, unappreciated, and taken for granted.

I want to be used and abused. I want to be beaten and trampled upon.

I have earned exactly what I deserve. I am getting what I asked for.

Guess I'm a fucking idiot.

I'm homeless now. Loveless. Penniless. Depressed. Disoriented. And trapped.

I can't afford to commit suicide. I don't have insurance, nor the money for a funeral.

I think I will throw myself in a ditch. Hopefully the vultures and wild animals will devour my corpse and leave not a single trace of me. Nothing more to cause suffering amongst those I love.

Perhaps I can become accustomed to being used. It can't be that bad. One second with you is worth ten hours of misery and I benefit from every moment. I cherish you. I cherish anything you give me. Because it's better than being given nothing at all.

Pining. Longing. Yearning.

I'm learning...

To hate these words.

The game

I'm starting to think I'm just an experiment to you.
You're using me for sex. You're using me for attention.

I just... Don't understand you.

I gave you a chance to tell me. My question was something like this, "What do you want from me?" And your reply was simple and inconclusive, "I don't know."

Were you simply too ashamed to admit it? Were you afraid of my reaction?

Oh, what a foolish game you play. Don't forget that I'm the more practiced player... You're going to lose one way or the other.