Abruptly, I wanted nothing more than to be there, behind the sheltering walls of my insular world. No. I wanted no other thing at all, and every accursed second that stood between myself and my relief seemed infinite and filled me with an unbearable, insatiable yearning that would not be suppressed. I was addicted alright.
Addicted to the completeness, the control, the containment. The purpose. Not this sprawling web of uncertainty, not this mocking shell of an existence. This fraying string of vacant spaces between being and feeling. This…life. This life I could live without.
Had it always been this futile?
The familiar old cocktail of shame and guilt stirred inside of me. Of course.....Of course this is not how we would have it be…but why must we deny ourself this pleasure, yes, this pleasure such as life would so callously deny us otherwise?
The hammer strikes the iron while it’s cold.
I couldn’t bring myself to disagree. It was the cruel and inevitable wind that swept my faith away, slithering through the cracks in my straw built fortress to bring this house of cards down with but one rancid breath. But did it not carry the truth?
Like a hand upon my shoulder, the promise of our indulgence brought warmth to my bones. The cold comfort enveloped me like a hearth warmed cloak in the dead of an eternal winter. Weakness? Or strength in the face of hopelessness?
I no longer cared to decide. I exhaled, and, I swear on my sanity, I almost smiled.
Author notes
This is the first part of a series of 'notes' forming 'Addiction' which aims to regale all with first-and-a-half person tales of addiction related woe.
To clarify on the background of these writings, the inspiration is unsurprisingly drawn from my own experiences, but this is intentionally creative writing and not a literal telling of actual thoughts and events. Unless, of course, by "literal", you refer to the linguistic sense, and by "actual" you mean fictional.
I hadn't written in prose since leaving school, and my novel ideas were always far too grandiose to ever result in actual pages being written, but on the day of writing this short I began to put things together as if reading them from a book or journal, with no context or background information explained. That's going to be the theme with this one, so I hope you can enjoy reading them as I come up with them, which is in no particular order.
Thanks for reading
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Comments
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Really liked this, especially the line "Why must we deny ourselves this pleasure" I can remember thinking this.Everyone else was wrong and I was right and I wasn't doing any harm right?(WRONG!)Your poem took me back to that place and then I saw how far I've come, so not only is it a cracking write, its actually helped someone too.Thanks. Montey
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This had a amazing flow too it. This was very powerful, I really enjoyed reading this brillant write. Anyways. This was amazing. Keep up the very good work.
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This is fantastic, my new friend. I love the wording. I say that alot with people's prsoe poems, but I really do mean it. Words captivate me and you are certainly one who does not lack in the 'vocabulary department'.
Stunning and very powerful. I am loving it.
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