week 25: together

when i was younger, i had two magic tricks that i did pretty well... i could make large quantities of alcohol disappear into thin air (read: urinal, you only rent it you know) and the other was my ability to take news like say, hearing that the woman you never quite got over having a child and with a magically finger pointed to the ceiling - *poof* - my beer turned into a chaser.

and those nights, and there have been many, where no matter how hard i tried to stop my brain from thinking thoughts like: why wasn't i good enough to fuck up your life with, would echo from my heart anyway, catch in my throat and make me feel like i was suffocating. where i had cut to feel something other than what i was feeling. no bottle was deep enough those nights.

it's been eighteen months now and thoughts like those don't quite hold that same power over me, not to say that things are perfect, or even all that better, but still, they are different. i get to have conversations like these where i can laugh and amuse myself with my quick wit and wordplay. to be self-deprecating rather than self-loathing which is an improvement oddly enough.

things still hurt. but that hopelessness and pain is not quite so unbearable, at least for now. 

and i am okay with that.

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