Dark addiction

Sitting alone in my room, I'm getting quite used to the darkness, with a pile of battle scars walking two steps ahead of me I have learned not to be surprised by pain. I exist only now as a wanderer expecting pain and watch it pass by like a friendly visitor..

So the endless cycle of agony begins.

The wet that is pushed so effortlessly out from my eyes travels down a familiar road, an already stained cheek, it's stains of tear drops that had previously slithered slowly passed my nose and ended at my jaw. They start so full and large then run out of what fuels them and come to a complete still where the road ends, the side of my jaw, there is nowhere else for them to go.

A tear , every one resembling the other, they all look the same, they all travel that path ever so constantly slowly passing by memories of their pre exist-ors dried and sticky they lay, covering what used to be laugh lines and red rose blushes with their hot and sticky scratch marked trailing s down a pale and timid cheek.

I know this feeling, I have felt it before, the tears that roll down have no names, they have no major importance but just to become part of the agonizing routine that is never late and seems to schedule on time every chance it gets.

Pain, it's the cycle that continues on longer than any other , getting used to it though, getting used to not drying my tears they stay there layer by layer dribbled down my cheek, don't have time to wipe them the next load is on it's way. They accumulate dust as they lay there with no purpose just a cause of an emotional destruction, like hundred year old books sealed with aging covers but containing words and stories only discovered when read.

Pain is the only reality now, it's all I know, I miss it when it's gone and I can't stand to be without it, I continuously wait, anxious for it's next arrival, I live in a cycle of worrying about it and when it will return. It has now become a comfort not a surprise but an expectation.

I'm getting used to being here, alone and pretending I'm okay , I like the pain it does not promise to love or promise to be there, it does not neglect, in fact it does what it promises to do time and time again , it keeps me numb.

My memories of feeling anything other than this vanish when my familiar friend comes pushing back into my life. It's not invited although expected.
It said it came from a broken heart and had nowhere else to go, last time it was abuse , it blamed self esteem, it seems to always have an excuse, but my good friend pain never does neglect me, it's always there.

Welcomed, expected and does it's job.