My Problem Is Stupid.

So here's my problem: Everything is fine until the cravings kick in. When I've had some of him, I seem to function well. I don't miss anything, I don't feel any uncertainties, the world makes sense and everything moves in a synchronized manner, like the dancers at a cabaret show, in tune, right on the beat, fluid.

I've decided his number will never be on my phone for too long. As soon as a conversation has ended, I delete it. As soon as the last text message has been sent, I get rid of it... So that temptation is never there, so I'm not the first to give in, as to prevent myself from falling into the pit of darkness that comes every time I put my feelings on the line and get shut down. It works on his time and I'm on the side line> I'm almost the observer. I'm not even a character in this story, the story which is in fact mine.

It's like a drug, like a bad habit, like a slow descent into a mess that isn't mine.

'You are my drug. I anticipate seeing you - then I ride the high until you exit my car. The comedown is slow...but it hits hard, waiting for another text message, trying not to call you sounding desperate for a fix. And when I finally break down and call, and you brush me off as sweet as you know how, that's when I crash. And hate myself for craving you like I do.'

- R.C.

Today, it feels like I'm in rehab. I have been doing well. The trick is to be disciplined and keep my emotions and actions in check. The trick is to not let my guard down. The trick is to say no. The trick is not to hope. Hope is an hallucination, a distortion of the truth. He's never going to want what I want, he's never going to be there when I need him to. To hope is to fail. The trick is to believe what I know, that I deserve more, that there's more being offered to me, so I have to look away and take what's coming my way.


*Currently listening to Stylo by Gorillaz*