Monday, December 29, 2008

Sicklove

Being in love with you is like having a chronic illness.

You're fine, you're dandy, you're living you see him and then suddenly...
Your world has changed directions and you're sicker than you've ever been before.
And you stay so very sick for so very long.
And you spend so many nights sitting along at home wishing you were better
Wishing you could heal.
There are of course points of light.
That first hug, that night under the stars, every breath you take in his presence.
Is like have waves of healing washed over you.
But then the next morning, when you wake up
And wonder if it was just a particularly vivid dream
And you can still hear his voice in your head
You feel sickness well up inside you like a flood
And you feel lower than you ever have before.

Time passes. And, like they say, time heals.
Reason intervenes. Spending all this time being sick is a waste.
So you pick up and move on and 'be friends.'
You live life again.
And you're changed, and you hope it's for the better.

But there are relapses.
And they're terrible.
The moment you get home from sleeping in his arms.
As 'friends.'
And you realize how very perfect he is
And suddenly you're sick and dying all over again.

The moment you realize that sweater you threw on his floor
Smells of him.
And you bury your face in it and inhale the scent of death and disease.
And tears come to your eyes because you don't fucking want to live this way anymore.

The thing about chronic illnesses, though
Is that you either get better
Or you die.

No comments: