Addict: Setting the World on Fire
Entry 21
Dear Someone,
Do you believe in God?
What the fuck, who in the hell are you talking it>
You know who the fuck I’m talking to, Darkie. Do you believe in God?
Wha-
DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?
NO. No, I fucking don’t.
Why? Why don’t you believe in him?
Why? I am you, bitch. Sad but motherfucking true. Why are you even asking about this shit? We settled this a long time ago.
WE? WE? There was no we, just me: myself and i. We got through that. You weren’t even in the picture.
Oh, but I was.
Yeah, so maybe you were, but you’re the same and you’ll always be the same. A sick collection of Substances and SIB. Yeah, I saw you today. You sick, sick bastard. I saw you. You were the Lortab that I was snorting and the blender that got those pills to powered form. You’re just overdoses and scars. That’s all you fucking are.
And because of your scars you’ll never get rid of me. I’ll always be there. Forever. I’ll be there when your lungs give out, when you get diagnosed with liver disease, and when you start turning yellow, and even what you finally die cold and clone in a sterile room filled with the monsters like me. Do you believe in god? He’s abused you and traumatized you more than I ever could. What has god ever done for you? He was suppose to protect you, and all that happened was failure. Sexual abuse, cutting, depression, suicide attempts, false security. So, why are you still here, little one? Why are you still here talking to the monsters in you head? Because there is nowhere else to go. Why do you title letters to no-one, Dear Someone? Because you hope someone will come along, but no one will. It’s just us, Jessica. Just us. We are your coping methods. We are your knives and drugs and coldness. We aren’t the best, and we will destroy you, kill you, sooner or later. But that’s what you’ve always wanted.
We are self-destruction.
Do you believe in God?
What the fuck, who in the hell are you talking it>
You know who the fuck I’m talking to, Darkie. Do you believe in God?
Wha-
DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?
NO. No, I fucking don’t.
Why? Why don’t you believe in him?
Why? I am you, bitch. Sad but motherfucking true. Why are you even asking about this shit? We settled this a long time ago.
WE? WE? There was no we, just me: myself and i. We got through that. You weren’t even in the picture.
Oh, but I was.
Yeah, so maybe you were, but you’re the same and you’ll always be the same. A sick collection of Substances and SIB. Yeah, I saw you today. You sick, sick bastard. I saw you. You were the Lortab that I was snorting and the blender that got those pills to powered form. You’re just overdoses and scars. That’s all you fucking are.
And because of your scars you’ll never get rid of me. I’ll always be there. Forever. I’ll be there when your lungs give out, when you get diagnosed with liver disease, and when you start turning yellow, and even what you finally die cold and clone in a sterile room filled with the monsters like me. Do you believe in god? He’s abused you and traumatized you more than I ever could. What has god ever done for you? He was suppose to protect you, and all that happened was failure. Sexual abuse, cutting, depression, suicide attempts, false security. So, why are you still here, little one? Why are you still here talking to the monsters in you head? Because there is nowhere else to go. Why do you title letters to no-one, Dear Someone? Because you hope someone will come along, but no one will. It’s just us, Jessica. Just us. We are your coping methods. We are your knives and drugs and coldness. We aren’t the best, and we will destroy you, kill you, sooner or later. But that’s what you’ve always wanted.
We are self-destruction.