Invincibility/The Difficulties of An Addiction to Speed

If I’m moving fast enough, nothing can hurt me.

If I’m always running away, nothing can get a hold on me, can take root long enough for me to feel something. I don’t have to face the monsters, I can just run by, their faces a passing blur. I can’t stop, I can’t pause long enough to take a breath, to look someone in the eye because—it’s dangerous.

It’s like…if I run fast enough, no one can get a good enough look at me to decide what I am, or who I am. They don’t have enough time to decide whether they like me, or whether they hate me—or love me.

In a world defined by motion, there isn’t time for love, family, friends—unless they can keep up. Or unless I can slow myself down long enough to keep pace.

I can’t stop though, I can never stop.

I’m scared if I let someone get a good enough look at me, get really deep inside, they’ll hate what they see. And maybe they’d love what they see. I don’t know. Sometimes…I feel like I’m moving so fast I don’t know what I’m seeing. Sometimes it’s just

Constant
Motion
or Lack thereof
Finishing first and leaving
Love
behind us.
It takes more than a
Glance
to find what you’re looking for
So maybe it’s time
to stop searching and open the
Door.

I’m tired of moving. Sometimes. Sometimes I’m tired of moving. But most times, I just can’t stop. It’s difficult to come off of Speed, difficult to force yourself through that withdrawal. It’s just hard to find the will.

Because you get to thinking: this isn’t so bad, this life I have right here, right now—it’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with it. It might be a little dusty, a little dizzy sometimes, but in the general sense of the world and things and all—it’s fine.

And you get to thinking: how much better could life be without it—the Speed? And is it worth it? I can’t think if, if it would be worth it to go through all that pain—and in the end, you don’t know if you were better off the whole time, slowly destroying your soul, but somehow freeing your mind…?

Speed doesn’t like letting go of you either, is what I’ve learned. It likes keeping you close and covered and craving and coveting. It wants you to be scared of the world outside your small prison cell of addiction. It isn’t a love-addiction. It’s just...addiction. Easy. Peasy. But not Pumpkin Pie.

Everything, everyone is shouting at me to just. fucking. quit. But I—it’s not that easy! It’s not…easy. Like it is for them. It’s quite the opposite actually. It’s quite difficult. Quite. fucking. difficult.

My name is Sabrina Jane Ketel.

And I am ready to admit that I have a fucking problem.