Date: 1st august 2007
Addiction is what I am. I urge myself to stay on the path, but so desparatly want to wander in the thick grass and face demons, things I never dreamed.
I can feel it happening again...I find my stability, only for it to get hair line cracks in the corners, and I'm scratching the scab which will set me free, cause me sorrow.
There is a container, beside my bed, nothing to end it all, but will ensure my return to oblivion. I've been there before, and it caused me so much upset, so much sorrow. I realized what was making me this way, and stopped it, returned the container to the drawer. Now every morning, when I put on my socks, I can see it, staring back at me. She knows I shouldn't take it, but the idea of doing it excites me, exhilerates me, I want to return to my world.
I removed the lid this morning, she was in bed, hope she didn't hear. She stired. I couldn't take one from the pot, she'd hear, she'd know. So I put the lid back on, but put it on top of the chest of drawers. It calls to me, that is for sure.
Lick the lid of life or jump feet first in.......I miss being there.