Intoxicated

I remember 2007…and 2008…but just barely. I was running from an immense amount of pain in the easiest way available to me at the time. Friends, parties, alcohol. Anything to feel numb; anything to make the pain of severing, and eventually losing, the relationship with my father just a bit more dull. I wanted to escape out of the here-and-now so badly…there was only one thing keeping me there.

After 2008 I swore never to emotional drink again. Even though I crave…not the alcohol, but the cloudiness. The buffer between reality and make believe…here and euphoria. It is a portal to a reprieve from pain. But I’ve been learning how to hurt. How to just sit in it and feel it. It never lasts. But I always wish for a drink.

There are 99 days until my 30th birthday. I vowed to be active in some way each of those 99 days. And it is also my hope than through the activity, or maybe just the time…I can….
Joni Mitchell comes to mind. You’re in my blood like holy wine, and I could drink a case of you and still be on my feet. Then the Civil Wars, your mouth is poison. Your mouth is wine.

Maybe there’s a reason the analogy exists. Maybe because its like being intoxicated. When you’re high drunk tripping rolling on love, its all that matters. You don’t feel the effects you only chase the high….mmm and nothing is ever as good as your first.

Telling.

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