chemical dependent

it's three a.m.

you know what that means, carnie.

see, you may not remember the old days, but your veins do. and now that your heart pumps blood instead of poison every night, your veins are starting to realize that you're not going to keep filling them with that old warmpth.

can you feel them? writhing and thrashing, just beneath your skin.

careful now. scratch too hard and you'll tear and then there'll be nothing to hold all of your filthy little secrets in.

there. just hard enough to get the wriggling out. and you're not bleeding- an improvement over three nights ago.

if you keep this up, you're going to lose your looks. it would be so easy to make it all stop. the monk, always smoking. surely, he knows where to get something that'll get you feeling right as rain and heady as a hare again.

                                         no.    no no no.
or maybe the goblin, mox? she seems like she'd know how to get your... vascular vassals marching in time again.

                                                 please. no. I have to.
                                                 be better. stop.

you're sweating now, carnie. but here you are, wrapped in a thousand layers. and the fist sized lump you feel in your stomach has a clear root cause, and the easiest solution in the world.


                                        i want to be better. i just.
                                       want to feel normal.

you felt normal before you went all cold turkey. you were happy then. your hands didn't shake, your blood didn't feel like ice water- oh, nevermind. now it's like you're full of flaming pitch. so unpredictable, this beast.


                                         they won't respect me.
                                they'll hate me. they should.

what they don't know can't hurt them. discreet behavior was never in your wheelhouse before, but maybe it is now? slap on a pretty porcelain face and lie.

.......

careful now. you're going to fall out of bed if you keep that thrashing up.

it's always a wonder how you get three layers of robes off in the dark, in under two minutes. a wonder too, how the second you manage that, your skin crawls cold once more.

look on the bright side. at least you're past the point where your own internal monologue is trying to sabotage you.

now it's just you, alone with the nausea and the shakes and the pain.

second silver lining, the withdrawal won't kill you, though repeating that doesn't make you feel any better in your day to day life.

inconsiderate prick, the last person using this body. they have all the fun, and then leave you behind to sleep off the hangover and subsequent chemical dependencies.

that sorta inconsiderate behavior is for maniacs. the old you sounds like a serial killer! hah!

four a.m. you're almost managing real drowsiness now.


recovery takes time, and you've got a lifetime worth of purposeful fuckups to correct.

maybe you'll be ok.
maybe it'll all be ok.


four a.m.