Searching for the Sea of Shallow


Sometimes we wish we had killed more brain cells, sometimes we wish we were simpler, sometimes we pray for closure. There is no promised closure for the addict. None.


We are dazed this morning, Alcoholic, and me.We have so many conflicting emotions right now, it's like a bomb went off in our brain and we are scrambling throught the debris to see what has survived, what had been destroyed.


Does that make any sense? Laugh? Ha!


Yesterday was an emotionally charged trip to the electric chair for us.Sometimes, We think a little electro-shock-therapy is good for the heart. Here we sit however, and the pieces feel scrambled and jumbled and so incredibly mixed up that we don't know which is regret, which is survival, we don't know who's thoughts are who's.The Alcoholic's thoughts or my thoughts.


Yesterday's events brought a lot of the background questions up close and into focus. The microscope is alive and well.


You see, we haven't lived in harmony like this in so many years, It's very new to us to have the inner conflict so muted and almost nonexsistant. Neither one of us is sure what is responsible for this bonding. Is it just us? Is it just age? Is it just that time?


You see, this is the first time in almost the longest time that once the chemicals have been removed, we don't think about them on a daily basis. In fact, in the last three months, we have only craved a mutation of one's self into a chemically induced escape a handfull of times.


Previously, it's every moment, of everyday, it's a constant steady beacon in the back of the brain...


Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol.


How odd it is for us that this is no longer the case.


How very, very odd.


Today we read someone's account of their trials and tribulations with crack, with a needle. I think how very frightening, Alcoholic thinks, how very intriguing.


Alcoholic tells me, that could have been us. I tell Alcoholic...that was us.