Unanticipated (The Addiction of Vulnerability)

Drugs were addicting. I suppose I enjoyed seeing everything and feeling nothing. Though I did kind of feel alive - to be staring into the face of the Grim Reaper. He once wrapped his hands around my throat. Perhaps it was more than once; perhaps there were ocassions spent too high to notice that I was dying.

Now, I am living. A newfound passion for life, for existence. What I discovered through substance abuse and reckless passion was that my true addiction is to Vulnerability. Vulnerable to an overdose when I was young and confused. Though I grow older, I am no less confused as I expose my most tender heart to sharp fingernails and pretty eyes. Today I am vulnerable to heartbreak.

There's something painfully addicting, in the most masochist way, about believing in emotions and people. Something so masochist about believing in anything besides heartbreak. Surely I am crazy to be walking down this path once more. But to deny passion, or sincerity, or vulnerability - that is surely much more crazy.

The human experience is love, pain, fear, laughter, connection. The greatest depth of emotion comes only from being vulnerable. Thus, I treat carefully onward - carefully, but hopefully. Perhaps with a degree of naivety. Drugs made me feel nothing, and people make me feel everything.

I can only hope that you feel, and that you tread onwards too.

 

r

This poem is about: 
Me

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