To Wish Impossible Things

Dealing with alcoholism at this very young age is very murderous.  And looking like a chimney every 15 minutes will never ever do me go.  The thing about all these vices is that they are the only ones I can hold on to.  When I know with every stick I inhale and every bottle I drown in, the memory of you comes into mind so perpetually its beyond normal when they don’t.  I ask myself, why do I even bother destroying my life when your face looms like acrid death every time I drink and smoke my life away?  It is not fair.

Do you know that there is not a single day that I never think of you?  Every waking moment is like dying with misery hugging me so tightly I have to grasp for breath.  Maybe that is why I frolic in the arms of these vices so that at least something warm will accompany me in my journey towards retribution.

No one really understands.

Never have I moved from the spot where you left me.  I guess I tried to go somewhere, but the feeling of hope still lingers that you will someday find yourself going back.  And this is where wishful thinking comes into an obnoxious play.  Wishes never really do come true, do they?

We might as well be strangers now, it has been a long time coming that I don’t even know you anymore. Do you ever really know me at all?

In between order and randomness, I find myself struggling to uphold some sense of self.  I love you, but at this moment in time, I have chosen darkness.  Just waiting here for you to return and offer your hand to lead me  into unparalleled bliss.

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