Ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

I think I should start writing again. And by that I mean document my thoughts. Partly because they are always racing anymore. The concept of growing up and not being able to vent to your best friends about every little detail you think of anymore fucking sucks. You took for granted how easy it was to have your own personal therapist on hand with whatever you needed to express. Now we're older and busy, stressed and tired. We don't have that unlimited time to listen to each others nonsense. Especially because most of it is now very real and deeper topics than just what stupid shit went on in English class, or how the train ride home was a nightmare. 

So I keep all these thoughts in my head drift around and wait until the next whirlwind of intrusive thoughts enters for me to obsess over. 

Like how I've given up one addiction to rebirth an old one. How guilty I feel to boost about how proud I am that I cut myself off from drinking. That it had mostly nothing to do with the Pandemic and the fact I can't combine the two vices at one time. To have my parents proud of a half truth of me "cleaning up my act". Hell, how I'm even proud at the sheer thought that I have gone now four weeks without booze. Where as months prior I would be scared to not have a shot before 10 am to feel I could 

"Function." 

No...I went back into something I had been secretly craving for a long time. But with the little pride I have in myself I couldn't sub-come to the term "relapse." Denial. I guess that's the nature of a true addict though. 

Of all drugs to be so hopelessly hooked on. And as usual for what? For me I get no joy, no euphoric bliss or any other "positive" a drug can offer. No. I get the other things. The body that aches, feeling as though I can feel my bones when I rub my arms. Body eating itself for nourishment.

Too awake and too 'attentive'. Exhaustion begging me to give my body a rest. And those are just the mere physical side effects. Then there is the paranoia. And not the totally irrelevant conspiracy theory and ravings that most people associate with this drug. It's a more "rational" paranoia. The fears I had/ have towards my relationship. All of the worst thoughts, my worst nightmares ... and this drug wants me to find pieces to a puzzle that doesn't exist. Evidence that is nothing more than over observing him. What is more fucked is how this drug demands I find the 'Truth'. Expose the "lies and fears" that I have had this entire time. As if somehow that will let me release this breath I've been holding for four years.

That if my fears are proven true I can go about the rest of my life. That my gut instinct was right. That he was this liar I had suspected and I had continued to be played but this manipulation. *He did actually cheat on me twice with his ex and lied to my face about it* It's completely neurotic. And it caused so many nights fighting and screaming. Me crying hysterically and begging for him to admit to something, anything to make this idea true. So I could prove that I wasn't crazy. Which looking on it now, is completely selfish. 

Yet with how this poison treated my life and how it turned my relationship, my family and myself inside out ... I was the one who asked to do it again. A year and a half away from it and I was the one who tried to play off how I nearly begged to just try it again. Trying to convince myself that "oh no, no, this time I will have it under control. I will be in control. It won't own me. I'll own it. I won't let it destroy me the way it did before. I know how it works now, I won't fall for the same thing again".... 

And for a few days I swore I did.

Remind myself when I felt the fleeting paranoia and panic start to rise in my chest. That no, it's the drug... it's what it does... ignore it. But that controlled and calm behavior didn't last long. The obsessive need to dive deep into any site he was on... google any aspect of what I started to believe he was hiding from me. That he is lying and I can feel it.

That and when we took this poison after our strong hiatus.... he wanted me again. With feverish passion. And I was hooked. I love when he wants me like that. But it becomes so sobering when I remember this drug just flips that switch. Enables it. Forces it to be persistent. An arousal that can't exactly be ignored. That deep down it has nothing to do with me and that it is an effect this shit has.

**And I know the effects of meth compared to coke. I wish I could say I didn't. He introduced me to both and I wanted to bond and feel connected. So being the sheep that I am, I followed. And prior to 2018, alcohol was the only poison I knew. Didn't even try weed. But I fell into this drug hole. To be close to him. And I let him never explain I had done meth instead of coke one night. And So yeah, I googled all the facts. And I now know all about the sexual side effects that are associated. Just in case I sounded paranoid or naive. **

Which helps add to more fuel to the irrational thoughts. 

I want to be able to talk to someone about this. A professional. Or maybe someone who has done or slipped down this rabbit hole before and can explain this chaos to me. Without committing me or ripping it away from me. And don't get me wrong.... I want to walk away from this again. Just like I did before. I just .. there is this sick part of me that is happy I stopped drinking just so I could drown myself in some other demon. 

What's more comical is how I think that because I had this problem before, I think I know how it is going to turn out again. Weight loss, a romantic connection and talks we wouldn't have otherwise.... 

But I haven't lost weight. The one thing that was ideal for me... the selling point that brought me back here. And even if I lost the weight and was back where I was... my parents would notice ... and I can't hide behind my eating disorder again. That disappointment from my family would kill me. 

Having to admit I honestly don't know what it means to be sober. How I want to but how scary that would be. 

“I know you’re not allowed to say it....but drugs are kinda cool....I mean, they’re cool before they wreck your soul, and your life...and your family.”   - Euphoria

This is ultraviolence