It’s addictive, apparently; bottled up

It could be sold in basements under shops,

Dark and seedy places people only go

When they’re desperate, in need.

Coming off the stuff is hard, I did it once,

I was in my early twenties when it crushed

My bones, my organs too.

I was sensible enough

To never try again.

But now I realise, I’ve lived a life

In shadows that were self imposed, not needed.

I couldn’t tell you why I let it run this long,

This shunning of a person I can love.

I guess I’m scared of something quite that strong

Flooding through my veins,

Rendering me blackout drunk

And living in those seedy basement shops.

Is it really sad that I can’t remember what love feels like? I got hurt when I was young and I had Noah and I just seemed to decide that I was never going to put myself through that again. And I know it’s because I’m scared but I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to get hurt again, or because I’m scared of getting addicted.

I know people who have that addictive personality that I have and they hop from one relationship to another; it’s as though they crave that early part of the relationship that is intoxicating and euphoric.

People say that if you were to bottle that feeling and sell it you would make a fortune. I’ve been addicted to something that comes in a bottle before and that really did end in tears. I just worry about opening myself up to that kind of risk again.

Much Love

Rachel xx