Drugs with a heartbeat
Long time. No speak.
I've been too busy swealtering in this heat and trying to inject ice cream into my veins in the hopes that it will cool me down and make me appear cool and inviting to any possible future relationships.
Hope you haven't missed my ramblings too much.
Everybody past 20 should have experienced a first love by now, and let me know if you've been through the same feelings because it's both a sunset and a sandstorm and you can't have one without the other. Much like ice cream and jelly at a kids party when you were six...
Jesus I need to just go and get some ice cream so I'll stop writing about it.
Firstly, love is an addiction.
My mum warned me about drugs on the street but never the ones with two eyes a smile and a heartbeat.
I was lured in.
A false sense of security.
They become your life jacket in the most fucking horrendous storms,
Without them you cannot breathe.
They. Are. Your. Oxygen.
You become one shared personality.
And that's why it's so fucking hard when you break up.
You allowed yourself to be fully consumed by this person.
You've traced every crevice on their skin,
Mapped out every mole,
You know exactly the way their mouth arches when they're excited.
Everybody tells you how exhilarating being in love is.
But they never tell you about the damage it does.
Because by then,
It's too late.
Acidic tears roll down your cheeks burning every blood vessel on the way down to remind you of the harm you have both done with your sharp tongues.
And the next thing you know you're on the bathroom floor in a heap flooding yourself with tears and trying,
Trying so hard to scrape up all of the mess that is your intestines sprawled out across the floor whilst dry heaving and thinking.
This fucking hurts.
And then one of you apologises and everything springs back to normal like nothing ever happens.
Because no matter how bad it got.
The positives ALWAYS outweighed the negatives.
He was my drug.
And I couldn't wait for the next hit.
I never want to be that vulnerable to my feelings again.
But it's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all. I'm a firm believer of that.
For now I'm pretty happy with my books, my chicken curry (that never lets me down or fails to make me happy by the way)
... I told you chicken is life.
And my dog who by the way has been treated to a summer jersey which he proceeded to take off twice and thirdly hide behind the sofa which I then found and scowled him the stoniest glance I could.
He then froze
And thought 'fuck this bitch'
Then strutted off to his bed like a dick.
What a nob.
But what I have discovered is that many people are sleazy.
To have an insight into that you will have to stay tuned for my next blog!
... see what I did there?
Until next time