Thursday, September 28, 2006

Ring Ring... Hello?


The only thing that will save her life is her capacity for insight. She is transparent and fixedly honest, has faith that the truth is unavoidable, but still, I can not estimate her with accuracy.

She is not going back to school this year she says, because she's had a drug relapse. Near fatal I gather. She secretly wondered that she couldn't have a couple drinks once and awhile, and, waking up every day after hungover, eased back into shooting heroin and shooting speed. Now she is homeless and 13 days sober in withdrawal. PERHAPS she says, I HAVE PERMANENT NERVE DAMAGE. I CAN'T TELL YET.

When she asks again how I have been I can't really bring myself to complain that I don't know how we are going to come up with the money for a wedding photographer, that the shower needs to be recaulked because the molding is curling and molding, that the trunk of my car leaks.

There is a little ache of fear, dark and dreary. She terrifies me.

One day maybe someone will say I NO LONGER LOVE YOU. Maybe even 20 years of sobriety isn't enough? Who is to say every thing won't change in one dreadful moment? It can all be taken away from me and there are unhappy endings.

I am no less insecure in myself, and the choices I make, not one virtuous thing I do is assurance I wont suffer a fall from grace. Who's to say I didn't smoke a cigarette while pinned and casted, dreadful with anxiety as my future spun out of reach? Who is to say sometimes I didn't take the pain medication just to not suffer the loss of control? The existential crisis is never more then napping.

I feel ripped open by her failure, for every thing she has lost and all the potential for loss that she represents.

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