Addicted in the Dark
Shared by The Lost-and-Found Lover
I am living in the dark, the deepest of the darks. I refuse to turn the light on out of fear of what I will find.
I knew I was addicted to love but this is painfully different.
I am addicted to her.
Every morning I wake up and take a dose much larger than I can handle, communicating through sleepy photos and good morning texts. As the high begins to dwindle mid afternoon, I wait for her call. And as the clouds become vacant and my heart starts to itch, I beg her to squeeze me into her plans, ignoring the muffled voice of her lover taunting her with touches.
She intoxicates me, fills me for the moment but leaves me drained and defeated before the high can hit.
“It is an abusive relationship.”
Yes, I hear you now.
But please, hear me: I am in the throes of the cycle, spinning madly and out of control. She carries me to the highest of my highs and delivers my downs like small gifts in the palms of her hands.
She is the oxygen that fills my lungs.
Without her, the spinning would stop and the world would be clear but my dear, I am so tremendously terrified of opening my eyes.
You may smell denial on my breath but that is a remnant of yesterday’s darkness. Today I take a moment. I allow the light to peek through the curtains; it only creates a longing for the self I used to know. But I feel too far to reach and too unfamiliar to love.
So I listen as she binges on thoughts of her ex.
I am motionless as she touches her lips to mine, promising that there will never be anything more.
I am silent while she assures me that I am not to be assured; she does not know if I am still enough.
I am spinning as I wonder if I ever was enough.
I am struggling to breathe as I inhale her ups and her downs.
I am an addict, high in the corner of the darkness crying for more.
Begging for more.
I am sick.
I am lost.
And I am alone.
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