strong at the broken places

after two weeks off Vicodin I was stupid. I took a few pills when I had cramps too bad to walk, thinking surely it wouldn't be too bad.

instead I triggered another set of withdrawals all over again. fish-flopping limbs. racing heart. searing pain, like sunburn under my skin and on top of my muscle layer. hallucinations. nausea so deep it felt like dying. icy sweat.


I've been pushed to the very deepest darkest places this past month. I've been in more pain than I ever thought I'd be able to bear. I had to relive the whole Second Chance experience over again, being locked up and in pain and being treated like a liar. being forced to kiss ass and make nice to get out and get back to my life when inside I was seething with rage because no-one would help me.

and yet I go on. like a good little Newtonian. at some point these experiences will have their equal and opposite reaction. I will learn whatever it is I was supposed to learn from this and I will make myself its master.

and eventually this world will get tired of breaking me, and it will kill me in the end. even then they will gather after over the pieces of me that are left and say, she was so strong.