I feel the urge coming on and it dawns on me all at once that the cycle is trying to begin again. This cycle is not unlike cycles that people who struggle with drug or alcohol addiction experience, although my cycle is one in which I love another human but the relationship is not healthy for me.
In the first few days, I feel the urge to reach for him. I feel strong and try to quiet it within myself. A few days later, I tell my therapist, “I feel it but I know what it is so I am not going to give in.” I am going to distract myself with healthy things and quiet my mind and my heart of the longing.
The urge, however, does not go away. Especially during a shit week when it only gets stronger. Similar to an addiction, all it takes is some vulnerability — a weak moment — and I slip. A text, a phone call later, and I have begun the cycle again. I am angry at myself because I am not quite sure why I did it, why I gave in.
This time, though, is slightly different than the 100 times before. I have not completely taken the bait… at least not yet. I was strong enough to nibble on it and be reminded of why I must let it be. But, ugh, my heartstrings ache at the yearning to run back into your arms.
The whole process is heartbreaking. I am reminded all at once why I am so attracted to this person but why this person is so wrong for me. I see all the qualities I adore, but also all the qualities that I am scared of. I see the pain I bring onto him and all of the triggers I am, that I am terrified to continue further.
I wrote the above in the summer of 2017. It is now the spring of 2018 and I can feel the cycle coming again, like the first warm day after a long cold winter.
I feel it coming on for weeks, maybe months. A blocked phone call here, a google search there… I feel the addiction in pieces and then all at once.
You have played into it, though. You called me and I woke up knowing it before I even saw the missed notification on my phone. All-day, I craved you.
I cracked. I called you back, twice, once unblocked. You did not answer but that’s how you know its back — the addiction, the cycle. We are officially both in the game.
Next thing you know I am on the way to our favorite coffee shop. Maybe I will find you there. I do not but that coffee shop is halfway to your house. I am already halfway to your house and with this, I decide what do I have to lose? I want nothing but you.
I sit outside your house looking for movements, looking for you. I see a bunny on your lawn. The irony because Easter is tomorrow. The comfort because maybe he doesn’t know what he is doing here, quite like me.
“Leave when the bunny leaves”, I tell myself and I know I have gone completely crazy. Not only am I stalking you but I am also making decisions based on a bunny’s decisions.
The bunny leaves. I stay.
I make a decision I know is bad but I do it anyway. I text you. I tell you I am crazy. I demand you to tell me to go away. Then comes the text telling you I am stalking you, that I am in front of your house. The cycle makes you crazy.
For a while, I think if only I stare at the house long enough I will remember why I do not want to be in there with you. I’m hoping the bad, the pain, the toxicity will all come rushing back to me but it does not. Here I am, still craving you.
I cry. I cry on the phone to a friend. She tells me to leave because nothing good will come from this. She tells me to feel what I need to feel there but then I must turn around and leave once the emotion passes. The moment never comes.
You came out of your house and stare at me. I hang up the phone and get out of my car to face you. I face you. You face me. “Speak to me”, I plead and somehow someway, for reasons I do not understand — you agree.
Anger.
Tears.
Pain.
You push, I pull.
I ask you questions and you answer. Sometimes I think these answers come from the pain you carry but I want to hear them anyways. I want to accept these as truth but it feels more like the abuse I am used to and all I can do is cry.
I am not sure what changed in your mind but you tell me to get into the back seat. With you. To get into your arms. To cry into your chest. To be held by the boy I have been loved by for 13 years. How beautiful but how painful. I cry that it isn’t fair. I cry, “why does it have to be like this”.
I get comfortable in your arms. I get there quicker than I should be. Your arms are so familiar to me… You are so familiar to me. We begin to talk. We begin to smile. You state I am getting giggly, “gigglier than I should be”. But how good it feels to have you. Even if I just have you for just this moment right now.
Then you kiss me.
Your lips feel like home. I am mesmerized by the softness, the warmth going through my body, and the wooziness in my head. Keep me here forever. Never let me go. I play with your hands and fingers, and you kiss me — my lips, my neck, my hand. I am drunk by you, as you are by me.
You tell me you are going to read me a short story. I am enthralled in every word. I want to remember this. My head on your heart. Your voice, and those words. Keep me here forever.
I realize how drunk we are in all this emotion because of how quickly things changed. This was not thought out… none of it. Not me showing up at your house, not you coming out, not you kissing me. There is no us, yet here we are.
I see it in us both. The questions. The fear. How long does this last? When do you get out of my car? Do you change your mind? How soon will I regret this? How do we go from here? What did we just do?
You comfort me. I comfort you. We talk. We communicate. We listen. We hear. We understand. As long as we are in this car together, we are safe and sound and whole in this moment. Why could we have not done this for the past 13 years?
It has been 60 hours since you left my car.
Where are you? What are you doing? What are you thinking? Will I hear from you? Do we want this? Do we know what we are doing? What was that night? Did I dream of it? Was it real?
Did I, did you, did we, destroy us all over again?
This is the cycle.
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Previously published on medium
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