Page 3 of Eternal
I’m still here, but not clean, not pure, not enough.Neverenough.
But her voice comes back in my head. “I’m the iris of your world, pure and tender, and I have always been your breath.” I whisper it, but it doesn’t make sense. It’s just noise now.
I hate her. I hateme.
More pills, more numb, thoughts too loud, too heavy. Anger, pain,confusion, I swallow them down.
Maybe this is it, maybe I’ll just...stopthe anger.
More. More. More.
I’m fourteen, and I still need todaydream.
1
AZRA
“Fourth of July” by Sufjan Stevens
Present
July 4th.
Eighteen today.
Happy birthday to me.
It’s been two months since my last pill, weeks since I felt the sting of a blade around my thighs.
Because one night, I almost died, overdosing on tears, abuse, and opioids.
My hands still tremble, I can’t sleep at night, but nothing new. Xanax, Adderall, Oxy, the holy trinity that turned into heroin, and heroin intonothing.I mean, I’m two months clean, right?
I still sweat through my thin pillow like I’m detoxing all over again every night, it’s not as bad now… but it’s not gone either.
When it happens, I try to focus on the stars I drew on my ceiling and it helps a lot.
But tonight, my veins itch like they remember the feeling. The ache doesn’t go away; it just shifts into a weird anger, it sits under my skin, behind my eyes, around my soul, slowly begging for something to take the edge off.
Something to drown it all out.
And today I needed to drown.
I press my fingers to my temples, my head feels heavy, and the music around me is too loud. I’m tired. It’s always like this.
Quiet, then loud. Soft, then rugged. Normal, then chaotic.
The cravings come next, just after some memories come back to me. It’s not a craving for the pills or the alcohol, not exactly, it’s more for the numbness they bring, that sudden and calm nothingness.
I still drink a bit, but I can't stop completely, I think I’d die.
Today I brought my past back, and it hurts. Unconsciously, my nails are digging crescents into my palms. I’ve come too far for this.
The mantra comes after, soft and familiar. “Family is who stays.”
But no one stayed, not her, not anyone.
I have to stop thinking about it, but nothing calms the rage.
