Darkness is my enemy.
Darkness is my friend.
As I write these words by moonlight, I cannot help but wonder, what will be the end of us.
Will we be ok?
There is no going back any more.
There is only deeper, further.
An owl hoots outside my window, reminding me of my childhood, spent watching late night horror movies, the owl a reminder of something nocturnal, the one with the ability to pierce the darkness.
Something in which I could not do, I could not escape this black abyss. I suppose you could say it was something of my own fault, something in which I had chosen, the yellow brick road was not for me, so another path was taken.
A path less travelled, yet so often recognised.
Its addictive, its repulsive, this darkness consumes me and my mind, yet i must rid myself of this affliction, this desire for more.
I will never fully recover, even if I choose to, it has taken my heart, and my soul.
This darkness will always consume my life.
The depression will never fade.
-Roaring Fox
(Source: roaringfox)
Please, Please. She whimpered softly, Looking up to me, her face hidden by the silhouette created against the harsh light behind her, revealing open wounds across her arms and legs which she slowly caressed, grimacing as she did so.
Help me out of here, i’ll be good i promise… Tears began forming at the corners of her eyes. I can stop. I can do this! Her voice now quivering in time with her lower lip.
The pale whitewashed walls reflected her cold, pale and clammy skin, dripping with perspiration…
I stood watching, tears forming in my own eyes, she didn’t recognise me, i stood unable to move. In shock.
Her eyes, wide as the moon shining through the broken window beside me, lost their focus. Where have you gone!? Come back! Looking desperately around the room, for a solution to her mystery.
Still frozen to the spot i watched her as she collapsed in a heap, worn out by her body’s great expenditure of energy. Unable to move, this wasn’t her i knew.
Sobbing, her whole chest heaving in exhaustion, sadness, and desperation. Her head snapping up, pushing herself up, stumbling closer to me,her eyes still out of focus, unable to discern reality from fiction. Her hands pulling my face closer, cold and damp with sweat, Pulling my neck closer, still unable to move away i let my body directed.
Her hot breath spreading across my neck as she whispered undiscernable mumblings.
Until
I want to go home.
Collapsing in a heap once more as her knees gave way, slowly falling i let her drop as i move my arms away from her, loosening their support.
I couldn’t handle this, this woman with an uncontrollable drug addiction, his woman who had no control over her life, or anything for that matter.
She was no longer my wife. She was no one.
-Roaring Fox
(Source: roaringfox)
Desperation, the need for the next time.
The withdrawal was killing me, the symptoms were complicated, strong and unbelievably having a detrimental on both my physical and mental state.
My mind was constantly focused on one thing, yet constantly changing between many thoughts of which i could not control. Everything was aching, i longed for this.
I missed it, i needed it again, and again.
The feeling that came with it, the sheer absolute joy, the only side effects; coming off it. The need for more, the constant fixation upon it, the thoughts dedicated to it.
People say i’m to good for it, that it isn’t right for me.
But i don’t care what they say,
i don’t care what they think.
They don’t know it.
They don’t know her.
I love her.
She’s my addiction. :)
-Roaring Fox
To Write Love on her arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for those struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire, and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery. Join the movement here.
Hope is Real. Help is Real.
Your story is important.
-Roaring Fox
