Jumping from the balcony.

“No emotion that’s worth having could call my heart it’s home, my hearts an autoclave.” – The Mountain Goats – Autoclaves

I need this. I always come back to this. This is square one. HQ. Home. This is where I end up. Before I had this I wasn’t happy. I was restless, stuck, like all of this would cook up and get to the top of my blood. It would kick and scream and make  me mad. It made me push. It wasn’t all bad though, when it stayed in my blood. I learnt more about myself that I would have ever had learnt staying at home. It taught me that I was capable. Not of anything or everything. But capable of something. Something was more than I had ever let cross my mind before. Something was an achievement. Something was hope. I needed the crazy. We all need it. We must learn when to fight it and when to not.

Argh. You know? You know. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know. I thought I wanted sex but that wasn’t the case. I thought it was drugs or cigarettes. It was neither. I don’t know what it is. For the first time, the thing that I want that I can’t get is completely unknown to me. But I want it. God how I want it. I itch and I wake up in the ditch water sleep I’ve been getting. I still feel where they put in the I.V drip sometimes. Sometimes I wake up and grab at it’s trolley as I make up way to the bathroom. I’m always confused when it isn’t there. I still sleep with my right hand away from my body to keep the tubes clear. I’m better now. It takes some time to remember.

Self-indulgent people give up. They start. They stop. They keep going. Bad tattoos.

Sober again. Easy. Sober. Forgiving. Forgiven. Gone. Easy. Happy. People. Smiling.