Relapse is literally the worst feeling. Whoever wrote that, you're right. Whatever relapse it might be, it feels like falling back into the pit that you spent so long climbing out of. Someone wrote the comment that you could see it as tripping over your shoelaces, tie them back up and continue walking. Tripping over your shoelaces isn't a relapse. Its not slipping into a struggle you've once overcome. A relapse resonates more along the lines of climbing out of a dark hole, tasting a bit of the sunshine on your tongue, complacently climbing faster and higher without watching your step, twisting your ankle and slipping into the trench once more. It hurts more the second time round because you're burdened with failure and the thoughts that you'll never make it out.
Perhaps insanity is a cure. A drunken state is so tempting right now to drown out the voices in my head. What is being drunk like? It is like an hourglass turned over so sand is seeping grain by grain into the chamber below. Every falling grain marks a fraction of your thoughts diluted by the alcohol, every empty space in the top chamber, an empty space on your mind. It is a state of temporary limbo, drained of all the emotion clinging like cobwebs to the corners of your mind. The emotions are like cobwebs, they are spun from the fibers of your thought and hinder any clear perspective. Anything that tries to pass through will be hazed like stained glass, leaving only corpses hanging by their threads. As you down the alcohol, it floods through the gaps in your mind, waterlogging it till it swells up and throbs. There are no spaces in the mind for thinking, there is no obstacle and space, only a breathable rooms of liquid. There are no threads pulling on your emotions, there are no emotions, you're numb. The world around you might be on fire, but you are numb. In your lifeless mind, you are happy.
There is only a temporary drunken state, but there is a certain refuge one can seek in a lost cause. To put it simply, I've given up. I've given up on love, given up on soulmates, given up on us, because there is no way you can be happy with my love for you, and there's no way I can live with knowing I put you through such pain. Until someone can prove me wrong, there is no such thing as love. There is only pain awaiting those who love, the pain of being pushed away, the pain of pushing away, the sickening face of love leaving with someone else. There is no such thing as trust, for all those you trust will turn their back on you some day. You're not a person. You're some kind of sick manifestation of everything I used to love. I will prove to you that I'm not as weak as you think, I will fight this fucking war alone and tear the hearts out of all these monsters. I'm a lone soldier, I have nothing to lose anymore. You want me to be strong, I will be fucking ruthless, I will be cold-blooded and unstoppable even if it kills me. That's what this whole world is about, isn't it? Happiness at the expense of others. Ripping the tree of life to reap the fruits for benefit. There will be no warm bodied embrace, no tears of joy, only steel masks and alibis. Scars. Hard heavy breathing before I fucking crush his throat straight into the coffin. I am my own enemy. No one else exists.
Pain will be frozen in its tracks. I'm alive, and I'll stay that way till death's embrace.
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