in sixth grade they held an assembly about addiction and told me about drugs. As if a 10 year old has any concept of what that really was. They didnt tell me what it was to be addicted to the way you made me feel. They didnt tell me how something completely fake would feel more real than anything else except for pain. Nobody ever sat me down for a coversation about addiction for anything other than that, as if it was never applied to anything else. Nobody ever told me that theres a type of love that can only make you bleed, and one day that person will convince you that you need it.
For all the Red Flags i didnt see like how your words always came so easily, nobody ever told me that the first high was something id chase for 8 uears straight and then id keep taking something that i completely and utterly fucking hate ed. at one point that lasted for years, i convinced myself through the tears that i liked the pain because why else would so many of my sheets be covered in blood stains?
I just wish in 6th grade they wouldve told me about toxic manipulative love because id honestly rather be addicted to opium, than have stolkholm syndrome for a boy i met 11 years young.
its not that unusual considering the people that plan schools got married in high school. its not that unusual when so many bad things happened to them, and illegal things now were legal back then. its not that unusual considering how men talk about how women ruined their lives and vice versa, its not that unusual because my grandma did acid multiple times as a teenager but only ever talks about the boy she loved who got a girl pregnant while they were together.
I turned off the lights and locked the door so many times in my life because i didnt want to be alive anymore. You always said "your skins so thin," and i thought that it was an addiction and a sin to test that theory out on my thigh while i was crashing and breaking down from a high that you built up for days so you could drop a bomb and watch me try to keep the hurt at bay in front of you rather than have a problem. You jerk off and go to bed but i tatto the things you said and you dont have a second thought but i just killed off a part of me that i actually liked because of a comment you perfectly dropped.
I know your excuses and your reasons and why everything is always my fault. i spent a year with a list of situations in which i was the bad guy and was wrong, i spent so long wishing youd tell me to go so i can finally leave because i know theres someone out there who loves you better than i do. You say: shes just a friend. we only ever talked on the internet. but it took me so long to see that that was just a justification for all of things youve done to me. just another strategy. just another way to get into my mind and thrive off of the way ill never leave you behind. but that doesnt mean ill take you with me anymore. my love, suprisingly, is not a finite resource and you are poor at self restraint. Relapses only get worse everytime and withdrawal is such a steep climb that i cant put myself through that even if it seemed appealing in any sense of the dictionary meaning of the word.
I dont think i would have such a complex traumatic stress in my life, trust issues and flashbacks and shaking until the moment stops attacking if i hadnt met you in a time when i still had recess. Over the most influential years of my life i have sabatoged so much for you to treat me like a judge giving his verdict, i have walked egg shells and moved heaven and hell, the end of the world has come and gone but you only seem to come when the light is right and its almost dawn. You come to me like its 10 am in febuary and an hour ago it was too cold and soon it will be unbearablly hot, but i stand in it because not doing that is inconcievable. I have hurt so many people for no real reason other than i couldnt reconcile how i feel, i couldnt get the attention i wanted, and i cant ever take back things i did. No apology would ever make it better, reaching out would be a reminder and that version of me will always exist in some way or another. But the difference is, buddy, when i was 15 i realized that wasnt a person i ever wanted to be and broke the cycle. That was the year you adopted the traits of a serial killer.
I have so much regret for all the things i didnt do and for spending 8 years convincing else i loved you in any sense of the word, Sometimes i hold my breath until i kick and scream because ive only been two months clean this time, and even after a 6 month break i broke my promise and took the bait, and ill do it again and youll eat me alive like a piece of cake. cause i know you in infinetly more ways than you know me. i know you to avoid making you mad, to make you happy, to hear you laugh. you know me in order to make me feel bad, to make me feel as if i am unworthy and will never be enough. and i know youll be back with all of your apologies and your "ive changed in all the greatest ways," and i will have a panic attack. and i dont know myself enough right now, i havent tested out how strong my will is when acted out, but if i fall for it i finally know that theres people who love me enough to tell me that you are not capable of love, and that addiction isnt about drugs that were made in a lab to test on rats in 1956, sometimes addiction means things weve never had but convinced ourselves we did, sometimes addiction is the way we feel after having sex with strangers, sometimes addiction is hurting other people and watching them walk out the door, sometimes addiction is about hope against hope and ignorant, blissful devotion to a boy who once said, "im practicing on human emotions."
Maybe one day youll come back and have all the right words to say to convince me that wanting to kill myself is a completely normal state of mind to have and i just need another pill. and maybe i will. maybe ill finally take the fent because you never meant anything you said that convinced me to stay, and ill go and meet god and repent. and then maybe ill survive and from there go to schools to tell kids that drugs arent cool and that it was them that almost killed me. and i wont say your name or say the things that will never really go away, that never wont be. i wont say how ill never stop apoligizing or feeling bad for everybody because of you dramatizing everything i said, how my guilt complex is so high for someone i never even had sex with, how sometimes when my phone goes off i noticably flinch and let it die on purpose. How I Love You has no meaning and i never want it to because everytime i look at my thighs i remember the bleeding. Ill tell them it was the drugs that are the reason im here today, and what nobody ever wants to say to a 10 year old kid is that usually when people did the drugs they did its because the Worst Addiction they ever had was Another Person.
I will never get my revenge on the city of clovis school systems for talking to 10 year olds about a really expensive and hard to get drug that wasnt a local problem, and then doing the same thing every single year. i will never get my revenge on the people that hurt me, or the person that controlled me and taught me how to fear other peoples anger. But it makes me feel better that the one thing i can do to the generation that raised an entire generation of victims and abusers is say, "OK boomer," and watch them and have them call it a slur. And to Jacob Alexander Foster, i never thought that id ever have to hate you, or plan my escape from you, but if you ever write a story with my name that features necrophelic gore about the woman you love who has brown hair and brown eyes again, You will pull out a pack of cigerrettes one day and then "somehow" get addicted to PCP. and i will not feel bad, so you better not call me.
