A short time of careless happiness numbs a bent soul. Healing it requires a longer process, that if we are lucky enough to find the right treatment. I've found mine.But my luck has its limits...
My way out of this bottomless pit was interrupted by the intervention of a mind sicker than mine, a broken soul that can't find a way to cure itself. The blackness of its sorrow envies my road to happiness. The same blackness forces it to block my way out, if it can't escape its own misery, why remain alone, why let me find inner peace, why help me liberate myself? Doesn't it know that once out, I would break the gates of its hell and drag it into my happiness, drag it near me to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the joys of life?
And so you start to think again...
You realize that the comfort you had from your treatment wasn't enough. Until you're fully healed, your salvation is your drug.
I like this drug. Although I know I've become an addict, although I need a 72 hours fix every 24 hours, I like this drug. As any other, this one too might have results or side effects. The result would be unconditional happiness, trust, learning to feel again... An aftereffect would be bending me harder or even breaking me, sending me deeper in a world of self inflicted pain... Not physical pain, that would be merciful but the worse kind of pain, the mental one.
And so I remember my short anodyne happiness, the sensation of allowing myself to feel again.
I am willing to take my chance on this drug, I am willing put myself in another of life's roulette game... Even if my odds are small, at least I'll know I tried, I'll go to sleep at night sobbing, but I'll know I tried...
And so you stop, and so I stop to think again...
