you are in denial

about what your mother is doing. you cant seem to get past needing her so your business doesn't go under, or needing her because you are going through a divorce again because you put yourself in the same situation that you do every time you meet mr. right.
and you are counting on me, and you are counting on her to, once again, clean up the mess you have made of your life. and i am disappointed, not for you but in you.
little do you know that she is dieing, killing her in one of the most slow, painful ways imaginable. she is taking so much pain medicine that if someone were to take as much as she takes on any given day, it would kill them. but she has developed a tolerance for it. so now, the only effect of her taking it is the feeling of euphoria that she gets, i know that feeling all too well, euphoria that is.
but what you don't see is that because of the size dose she is taking, it is slowing down the circulation, slowing down the circulation in her heart, and lungs. making it hard to breath, she is drowning, but you think it is okay because it isn't alcohol that she is drowning in this time, "it is something that she needs to deal with the pain."
but like i have said, it is not the fact that she takes the medicine, it is the way she takes it. it is that she feels like she is crawling out of her skin when she doesn't take it. it is the fact that when her doctor goes out of town and she runs out of her prescription she will fake a heart attack you she can get the morphine through an iv, my personal favorite.. iv drug use.
the personal bond between someone, and a needle, the bond between ME and MY needle. the true love of my life, the thing that will hold me when nothing else will, my support system, my family, my best friend and my lover.
the cooking, processing, preparing, serving.. the fact that i allow it to enter my body, let the point slide in, release the purpose of my existence, the prick that only lasts for a second, the burn of something foreign in my veins that only happens when i haven't been with my lover in a while, and the pulling out and holding my finger over the spot so i don't get little blood droplets on my shirt. the track marks that i have to cover, so my girlfriend will not know that i am having an affair, because i will never love her as much as i love my needles, and that would be devastating.
oh yes, i understand about being addicted to drugs, to sex, to relationships, to slicing into my own flesh, to eating, to not eating and purging when i do.. i get it.
and i know that if we live by statistics, that i will die with my lover. and i know that even if i do manage to separate from it, that i will still be a statistic, and there are days that my lover tells me, "you are going to die a statistic either way, why would you force yourself to be without me, when we can be together, after all.. if your going to die someday, you may as well be happy when you do it."
more often than not over the past year i have not given in.
but i want to save her from killing herself, partly because she is family, partly because i feel obligated to, and partly because i want her to suffer through losing the one thing left in this world that makes her feel whole. her lover.
because i really hate her, and what some may see as an act of love is actually me attempting to destroy her in a different way. because i know what it feels like to detox, to be in a ball in the bathroom floor, shaking, sweating, and throwing up. being so sick that you cant move. and i can only hope that she will be in her bathroom floor, leaning over her toilet, so sick she wished she was dead, and i can only hope that she will glance over and see the two loaded shot guns she has in her bathtub for protection against the outside world. i don't necessarily hope that she blows her brains out all over the wall leaving a mess for someone else to clean up. i hope she has a flash back of her mother being shot in the neck, becoming a paraplegic, leaving her to take care of her 5 other brothers and sisters.. i hope she feels something. weather it is the fear and or satisfaction of pulling the trigger, or some kind of hope, i fucking hope she changes what she has become.