i realize now why writers drink

The 10 steps to recovery… i think. 

Day One: Waking up

You realize it feels as though you’re stepping
out of a dream. You wonder at how it’s possible that
you’re still alive when it feels as though he’s digging
a grave where your heart used to be
and you’re buried by the immensity of it.
The improbability of how much has changed in a day.
You feel alone, but you know that cannot be.
How could it?

Day Two: Drifting

You marvel at the street sights and sounds.
You marvel at how the people around you can go about
drifting from day to day activities, as if the world hadn’t just shifted,
changed irreparably. 
You marvel at how some smiles on some faces are so vibrant,
how others seem so forced. You look at eyes and pretend you’re not because
you’re trying to see their pain too.
You hope someone sees yours.

Day Three: Hope

Your brain pretends yesterday didn’t happen.
You think it’s a fleeting dream. 
A momentary lapse in reality to some nightmarish land. 
It couldn’t possibly be possible.
You are not alone.
You stare at the phone all day, willing it to ring.
It doesn’t.
Why am I setting myself up for disappointment?

Day Four: Anger.

It starts and ends with this.

Day Five: Six: Seven: Eight


You catch a glimpse of him on the streets.
You hear his voice.
You read through all the text messages you traded through the days;
The bygone days.
You blog a lot.
You read more.
You write utter crap.
You vent your anger out on that nice bottle of Bordeaux you’ve been saving for some
“special occasion”.
You write more.
You cry more.
You cry until there’s nothing left.
You tear down their pictures from your walls and
look at the hollow holes they’ve left behind.
You tremble as you struggle with putting their things into a box
You write out a label
You mark it: left behind
The tears come again. You thought you’d ran out of them.
You cry some more.
You cry until every particle of your being is tired.
You cry until you’re sure you’re going to sleep but no…
Sleep eludes you.

You wait.

Day Ten: Waking Up

You wonder if it’s a dream.
You wonder if the past months even happened.
You marvel at your sustainability.
You marvel at yourself.
You didn’t think you’ll survive. But you did.
You wander out into the world and it seems brighter.
And duller. All at the same time.
You wonder if it’s some after-effect of some drug
and you realize that
After a while
It doesn’t matter. 

You start again.

Day One: Waking up

You walk into a store and it seems familiar.
You glance curiously at the faces that you pass.
You marvel at the sadness in the eyes of an old lady,
You giggle conspiratorially with the little girl who ran into you.
You smile politely at a teenager checking out a book.
You awkwardly shuffle out of the way of a man carrying a box.
You stop and marvel at how different everything seems.
You know that everything is in it’s proper place,
that nothing has changed.
You marvel at the differences anyway and realize
You’re OK.

& when did that happen?


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