The Addict

The first thing that hits me is the putrid smell of alcohol, sharp against the hazy illumination. The room is still and quiet, save for the swirling smoke still lingering like last night’s hangover and the clock that ticks rhythmically to the pulse of my migraine. My senses assault me as I blink away another night curled up on the floor. Her clothes cling to my body, damp with days of wear and the summer heat. Sweat drips alarmingly down my forehead, the early morning breeze nothing but CPR for a dead man. Too heavy, everything is too heavy…

Morning arrives like a Monday. I try to wish it away, but the golden light emerges anyway. A steady pulse, growing brighter with every lap of the clock hand. I guess 40 floors wasn’t enough to keep the world at bay. A groan escapes me, smothered by a coughing fit and crippling dehydration. I would drink my own sweat right now if my forehead wasn’t so far away. Before I can try, a green shimmer catches my eye. I smirk at the glorious bottle of merlot, dripping all over my Persian rug like a wet dream. Then the smirk fades to a grimace as I lift my own leaden hand like a puppet master, and stretch out towards it. Moisture drips down my face, stinging my eyes. Too many things are touching me right now and none of them taste like forgetting my own name. I begin finger walking to the space where the ruddy wine mixes with the bright jades of the carpet. Come on. Fuck. My palm flattens, just two breaths shy of sweet relief, as another coughing fit overtakes me. There ought to be something stronger laying around here. My gaze begin to wander-- No. I can’t do this again. I roll my eyes up towards the kitchen. Even through the haze, it seems to shimmer softly, barely touched by these dramatic nights. A small sob of self-pity escapes me as I whirl around, a brief bout of sanity compelling me upwards. The room spins like a disco ball, just a blur of color and too much light. Then, I’m on all fours, clawing desperately at the forward space and pulling myself towards the promised land. 

So close. So very close. The clock ticking reverberates through the halls, an agitating reminder that the greater world keeps revolving even as mine has halted its motion. A blurry memory, a shattered bottle. Bits of glass crunch into my knees and I squeeze my eyes shut at the intrusion of my remembrance. Spots of black appear in my vision as a trail of red snakes out from behind me. I can see it now. It’s cold, silver body. I suck in a violent breath as I find sweet relief against its doors. Then, on bended knees, I shove praying hands upwards and they return with an answer. I down the carton in one gulp, then discard its red streaked body amongst the rest of the decay. 

With my tongue’s desperate request granted, I free my muscles of any obligation and slump from my crawl into a fetal position, holding my body close.  Everything aches with unmatched ferocity. My throat burns from retching, my body feels alien, and my brain feels stuffed with cotton. I think someone might be stomping on my head and the electric buzz of the fridge light isn’t helping. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block it all out, but the chambers of my mind echo with hollowness… save for the one thought I drank, smoked, prayed, and begged to banish. One name. One face. One grand regret. But three words... left unsaid and an infinite amount of heartbeats left for me to ache, regret, and agonize over it. It hurts so bad I want to rip into my chest and tear my heart out.

I want to scream or cry or give up because I miss her so badly. If only she knew what would become of me. If only that was enough to make her stay. If only I was enough to make her stay then maybe I would be waking up in her embrace instead of my own. Maybe I’d wake to her kiss on my forehead instead of this furious pounding in my skull. Maybe in another world, she's still mine to hold. Rivers run their unrestrained courses down my face, matting my tangled, forgotten hair to the floor. I stare into oblivion, picturing her smiling face and warm eyes. The loss strikes me like a dagger to the heart and a numb throbbing overtakes me. My body folds in on itself protectively, feeling the invisible wound. If I didn’t know better I’d think that my blood was slowly leeching out, leaking scarlet across the marble floors. I shake violently, trying to rid myself of the loathsome feeling. 

I thought that all I wanted was to hold her heart in exchange for giving her mine, but what was the cost of loving her? Was it my soul? My sanity? My self? My hollow gaze latches on to the rising sun, perhaps the last I’ll ever see. Maybe this is what dying is. Not a loss of a living, functioning body, but a loss of the life inside of it. This numbness leaves me to feel nothing but the absence of her, of me, of all essence of who and what I used to be. This feels like death. I know now that I’m worse than the alcoholics and drug addicts because my addiction remains unseen and even sought after... but love fucked me up more than cocaine or vodka ever could.

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