I seem to find myself thinking a lot about the past lately it seems, or at least a specific part of my past anyways.
Interesting how something that shouldn't be that big of a deal can seep it's little tendrils into the oddest parts of your life and mind until eventually it's gorged itself so completely it's just about impossible to ignore it. I suppose really it could have reached the point where the rotten smell of that memory and the shadows (sometimes more than shadows many of the times) of the emotions of that time would have risen up making it undeniable. Instead I think that recent events in my life have pretty much insured I look at my life and that point and time in my life. We all have times when we look back on the biggest things that have affected us in the past and it seems it's my time to do so now, events throwing the frail and once efficient cellar door out of the way and letting the rot and filth slip out.
Morbid? Oh yes.
Truthful? Again, yes.
Such a silly thing, a 'relationship' of sorts, I involved with a taken man whom was in a codependent, tumultuous and often times violent relationship. Caught in a storm that was not of my creation, nor did I do a whole lot to really calm it. Instead I threw myself headlong, heart first, into this storm, hoping...confident really, that I would emerge the victor, the man of my dreams beside me and I all the better for it.
A year and half, give or take a handful of months. Time spent in a bizzare and twisted mix of agony and of love and hope. Time spent fighting for a love I would never have, and a love I never should have come near for both practical and moral reasons. Days in anxiety...a time I cannot even begin to describe, constantly fretting, worrying, thinking of little else. Nights spent in agony, sorrow realized in racking tears, other bad memories dragged to the forefront as if to align with the negative present to show that even the demons of the past are not so quiet as I had long since thought.
And so...I spiralled out of control, as people trapped in a corner by themselves and circumstance are so apt to do.
Working at a bar made drinking constantly so easy, going out and about with people I had no business being with, at places that weren't for me, doing things that can only make me shake my head at my continued foolishness. Alcohol not being enough, I discovered drugs and how much 'fun' they could be. So began the 5 to 6 month binge filled with tweaking, chattering and money poured into bags upon bags and then even that wasn't enough. Pain couldn't be denied, whether through alcohol, sex or drugs, my circumstances were too much, past and present were forming to be too strong and the future was starting in as well, a whisper in the ear in the dead of night of the bleakness that was my future.
I would have nothing, I would be nothing.
And so the pain had to be realized and so it began, days filled with pain became a razor across the flesh, a new scar for a new memories, stupid thing really. Although it wouldn't be until that razor dragged across a wrist finally that I would be shaken.
I woke up that day, at least enough to start to shake myself from the pattern, the drugs long behind me, the drinking already petering off, it was the bleeding I had to stop, both inside and the kind I was bringing to life on the outside. I walked for a time, feeling alone and alien, but most importantly, I was awake, I was aware and watching. It didn't stop the pain or the sorrow, which was increased by me mourning for myself, for what I had done to myself, of what I had forced myself to become.
A hot fucking mess.
And then a new brilliant thing happened, I knew hate.
I tasted it, devoured it as much as it devoured me. Fed and breathed it, everyday I awoke I felt the hate, not inward, but outward, at him, at life, at him...and at him. It was he, I burned with it like some poisonous fill in for the blood, air, water and food that I needed, I thrived on hate. Despising and reveling in it, and it was good, it was fantastic and liberating. For in my hate, in my passion, I was free and I was alive.
Though one cannot live on hate alone and even that died out, the fire died out and I returned to no longer hating him, but the pain was gone as well, the sorrow, the need, the desire.
Which I thought was the end, but oh how I was wrong.
A recent problem has come up, the answer to this problem cropped up more recently than the problem. (which I noticed months ago) There was something fundamentally wrong with me now, something was off, very off and on some level I knew what the problem was, what it's name and function were, I couldn't draw it up. And recently I came to the answer, the name and function of my problem.
I've lost my fire.
Sure I still will fight someone when drawn into it, stand for what I believe and even get angry, but the fire is all but a shadow of what it was. Two years past and I've lost my fire almost completely.
I do not crave love or acceptance, only a faint bitterness when I do not receive it.
I do not feel driven or pushed, I have lost all desire to do much of anything.
I do not feel affection easily, the exception for the most part has been my grandmother and because of recent examples I have had the fount widened for my mother and best friend for the wretched things they're enduring right now.
Worst of all, I do not want, I do not desire, I do not need.
It is not peace, it is not acceptance, it is apathy.
Something I do not give much of a thought has impacted me so deeply, these changes coming slowly and sometimes swiftly but covertly making it's way into my life. A funny thing in a twisted and black sense of humor kind of way that I've been changed. I wish I had a divine and providential means to seek salvation, that I had an epiphany to save myself from this odd state I have slipped so easily into, being locked away with a cold indifference.
I suppose I'm just being existential and morose, but I felt it necessary to share it, to find some form of liberation or even some therapy to it. I'm not sure if it's worked, but it's out, it's out there and for you all to see it and I wonder if I'm any better...or worse for it...