i'm high on at least 3 different drugs right now. i feel mysel f sprialing. sitting in the living room of my brain i have this figure, ghostly, spectral, like smoke in the shape of a person, whispering to me, telling me all the reasons i'm out of control, drawing comparisions back through my life, pointing out the reasons i have no independence, no confidence, the figure grins as he points, almost laughing at moments, working me thorugh my failures and why i failed them
they're smart, the smoke-ghost, and though they're snarky and a bit of a fucking prick, i see what they mean. they lay it out so plainly for me that it's like tracing the lines on a notebook paper. i see easily where each begins and ends, and rations out space for the next like, keeping it going. a very simple, very easy to understand timeline of how i grew into the ruin i am now.
but outside the living room, past the front door, shining in through the window, is another ghost, made of complete light, made of understanding and fulfillment and made of the death of my past and the mending of my soul. i walk to the door, and i open it, and i see its radiant beauty standing at the end of the sidewalk, smiling warmly, understandingly, a smile of love and nonjudgemental pity and hope and belief in me.
but as i walk toward the glowing ghost of light, it drifts backwards. "not now," it apologizes. "soon, not now. soon, not now." i inch closer and feel its radiating love and warmth, and it retreats again, dunking me back into the frigid, icy, snow-overrun streets of my inner city. i look at it with tears in my eyes, falling to my knees, gripping the crunchy snow and slamming my fist into the ground, pleading, "why not now? why? why not now?
and the light-ghost looks at me again, growing pity in its celestial eyes, it walks slowly to me, disturbing no snow, before falling to its knee in front of me. it lifts my head to gaze into its impossible beauty and says, "this isn't the time for joy, for contentment. it's the time for work. it's the time to learn from the shadows."
i reluctantly cast my gaze back to the house behind me. the snarky, douchey shadowy smokey demon inside. the glowing angel says, " it's important to understand our darkness. it is vitally important. trust us."
so i trudged back to the home, opened the door, entered and sat on the couch, my body powerless and limp and my mind tired and defenseless. "okay," i say to the demon in the corner. "say what you have to say."