Bunni says to me “What do you want from me?”

I say, “I want you to love me!”

But the truth is…he does love me. And sometimes, I just want him to hate me. I want him to be done with me, to move on and to realize what a lost cause I am. Because the truth is, it’s much easier to be hated and forgotten, than to be loved and cherished.

Sometimes I just want to sit and cry….sometimes I just want to die.

I don’t hate myself…I hate the world I live in.

That’s right…there is no God. We are living in a Godless nation, in a God less world. I’ve come to this conclusion over a long period of time, during which people have preached their petty lies and tossed countless verses of scripture at me. I’ve had people tell me, God won’t give you more than you can handle….then I have to ask, why do people kill themselves every day? Because they couldn’t handle it.

I’ve had people say, there’s a reason for everything, that God has a greater plan for us all…I just laugh at this crap. What happened to free will? If God has such a great plan for you, why’d he give us the option to chose anything other than that plan? Because there is no greater plan. You live and you die. That is all. There is no grand design, no higher purpose. There is just the life you live everyday and personally, mine sucks ass.

I don’t believe in God. If you do, more power to you. I, personally, have seen too much evidence to the contrary to believe in a loving and benevolent God. If there is a god, he’s a cruel child who derives joy from others’ torment. That’s right, I went there. God is a sociopathic child with a horrible temper and neglectful parents who look the other way while he terrorizes people. while he lets people abuse each other, and murder each other, and let’s people rape children and kill animals.  He’s a child who laughs with a maniacal glee at your pain.

Free will…what a fucking joke. You are never given free will and freedom is merely an illusion presented to keep us docile as sheep to slaughter. Every day you go through the motions and would rather not, but feel you have no choice. How the hell is that free will? You are stuck in a trap, a cycle, a vicious circle of hell that you couldn’t get out of even if you wanted to. Freedom…what a fucking JOKE! It’s a joke, all of this nonsense is a joke. Do you get it?

I’m glad I got the chance to get high one more time. I’m glad I got the chance to feel numb and unbothered and free of the pain inside me. And I’m glad I got the chance to come down. To return to that pain and realize that I never wanted to do it again.

When I quit before, 8 months ago, I did it for him. I did it because it was the only way to get him to quit…but I see now that it would never have worked. You have to quit because you want to, not because you want someone else to. So the first attempt was doomed from the start. Because I didn’t really want to quit, and I had nothing to stand on when it came to saying no and meaning it.

This time is different. This time, I’m done with it. I’m done with it, because that’s not who I want to be. I have enough problems, you understand? I wish he would quit, I wish he would want to quit. I’m terrified that we’ll never be through with meth because he likes to be high, he loves it. All you have to do is look at him and tell it, that he adores it.

I hate it.

And I hate knowing that I’m stuck in this. I can’t leave him, and I’m afraid he can’t leave meth. I’m glad we don’t have kids…I would never drag my kids through something like this. It scares me to think we might someday have kids and then he’ll cave, he’ll get high and he’ll come home and I’ll be forced to leave him and never come back, because I won’t make my baby watch him get lost in a world beyond us.

I hate how it does us, how we can be in the same room and still be light years apart. How even trying to leave my thoughts to tune into his is a colossal effort. I hate how easy it makes losing each other seem. When I’m sober, I think nothing can make me leave him, nothing can tear us apart….but that’s not true. Meth can.

And it will. And you want to know the worst part?

He doesn’t even see it. or if he sees it, it doesn’t matter enough to change what he wants.

He’s strong, but even the strong make mistakes. He caved. It’s hard. It’s hard to quit something you love doing, something that’s been a part of your life, being your  whole life for years. I expected a relapse.

And now I’m terrified that it’ll come more and more often and then we’ll be right back where we were in the beginning. In different worlds and this time…I hope I have the strength not to follow him down. Pulling myself back out of it the first time was hard enough, and I don’t think I can do it again. If I ever went back to meth as a common thing, I wouldn’t stop.

So I know, I’m done. I don’t want anymore. I don’t want it at all. And I don’t want to lose him to it. I want him to see the danger and to love me more. He used to say doing it wasn’t worth losing me…yet Friday…it was suddenly worth the risk…getting high was worth losing me.

And that hurts. A lot. What hurts more is this is a much bigger deal to me than it is to him. To him, he’s like eh, i fucked up, but hey wasn’t it some good shit?

He doesn’t care. He got want he wanted, he won. And I didn’t leave. i should have. I should never have come back, I should never have joined him. I should have been stronger, I should have made him understand that I won’t stick around and watch him kill himself. I should have made him understand that I’m done with it…because I can say it all day long, but the truth is, I didn’t resist temptation any better than he did.

But the next time? If there is a next time, which I feel there will be and it’ll be sooner rather than later, I’ll resist. I’ll fight. I’ll leave. Because I’m done.

mysickartshow:

They all say I’m so strong, but I’m not. I’m really not.
I’m scared. Weak. Tired.
I need someone to save me.

I can’t breathe, my thoughts are racing, I can’t catch them. There they go -ZOOM- another one gone. It’ll be back, I know that. I’m shaking, I’m having trouble focusing, and my breathe is taking it’s time…It’s all familiar, and yet it’s like a stranger. A stranger you meet in the subway and let them feel your ass because somewhere inside you like it too. Makes you feel important, makes you feel sexy.

I’ve missed my friend, missed him dearly. I welcome him back with open arms and I’m flying with my friend tonight. I wish it would never end, the idea of coming down scares me, makes me antsy, makes my friend threaten to run from me. As I once ran from him. I ran…but when I stopped, there he was…waiting for me to stop. Because you see, my friend doesn’t run anywhere. he doesn’t have to. He is confident in the knowledge that if he’s patient and waits, he will be rewarded. You will return. Because he’s your friend…and somewhere inside, the same place that likes when men grab your ass, or a chick grinds her ass against you, that part…it loves your friend. My friend.

Friends are dangerous, and yes, he’s the most dangerous of all, because he never lies. He never takes your secrets and tells them to everyone. He never leaves you hanging, he never stands you up because something better came along. He is a friend, a lover and he is special. Dangerous. But special.