I was miserable. I told him what I’ve been trying to tell him for so long. Then I asked him if I could be on my own for a few minutes, but he came back shaking and absolutely trembling and held me. We looked into each other’s’ eyes for a long time. A tear rolled from the tip of his nose onto mine and it startled me. Then it dripped down my cheek and I could feel his tears streaming down his face onto mine. I felt strange, I knew it was serious but I’ve known it for so long that I had already come to terms with it. It was hard to sympathise with him. I was just hoping he’d get himself together as quick as possible and our day could continue on as normal. I was fine. Actually that’s a lie, I wasn’t fine, but I had accepted that I wasn’t alright; and I wasn’t going anywhere.
It wasn’t even to be stoned, it was like to be shoved out of my mind. We were walking to Tesco when we first lit up and as I smoked and walked I felt less in control of my body, wobbly and whatnot, and I loved the feeling. I love when I can’t stand up properly or sway when I’m walking. It’s like I have no control over my body, but also no responsibility. I get to leave my body and mind, my prison, and be me outside of myself; if that makes any sense at all. Probably not. It feels good when that happens though, being reckless. I’m abusing my body I guess. I can’t though, I really shouldn’t. I had my fall and my decline and spiral, followed by recognition, help and recovery. I had my time to mess up, now I’m meant to be getting better. It just feels like it wasn’t enough, I didn’t feel myself enough to begin a recovery. I want to really destroy myself, hurt myself before I need to look at myself and make decisions about getting my life sorted out. How many people will be there if I relapse? Even now I feel so dark, I’m so inspired by words from my pain and I love it. Passion. Something. A feeling. A needle through the numbness sending shock waves all around my being; bringing them back to attention, back to life.
Milo you’ve gotten so big.
Black with streaks of white now
Are you going grey my handsome boy?
Calmer here minus the needles
But I’m afraid one of your whiskers is crooked.
And get that pout out of my bowl Milo,
it’s raining cereal
and do you even like Weetos?
What noise is it that you so keenly recognise
that makes your paw leap into the cereal bowl after my spoon?
Drape your neck over my arm and sleep my boy, sleep.
Really though, I wouldn’t take myself out of this world because I was depressed. I would take myself out of this world when I’m at my happiest. Get to a point where I’m completely content, and just fade out. That way I would never have to come down, I could hold onto that last feeling forever. I would never be that happy again, so leave with what I have while it’s good. I’m not a coward who is too afraid to face reality. I’m somebody who wants to find happiness, and never let go of it again.