You know when you plunge in the needle that its going to hurt you in the end, but you can’t stop. The rush is in the asking, in the moment before you get your answer, because you think that maybe…just maybe the answer will surprise you. But it doesn’t. That moment was the high – the answer your inevitable crash. You watch the puncture mark bleed and you immediately begin thinking about the next question – the one that will give you the answer you’re killing yourself for. Because you’re a junkie.
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I’ll tell you a secret – I spent a lot of time building this unfeeling person. Every tear, every taunt, every disappointment went into the making of her skin, so that it would be strong enough to withstand more. Insult and indignity shaped the bones of her feet and the planes of her face, to help her smile as she walked away. Her brain filled with distractions and responsibilities, her mouth filled with lies.
But I made a mistake.
See, I thought I could cut out the weaker version of myself – make a better one. But it doesn’t work that way. I created my own worst enemy. Someone that knows the secrets I keep from the rest of the world, that taunts me with her sarcasm and flippancy.
Here we sit in limbo, staring at each other over this bleeding arm, and I don’t know who is who anymore – I don’t know which one is crying and which one is smiling with derision and disgust.
Who’s hand pushes the plunger?
