Apology

Apology

I%u2019ll sit here and tell you a story. A story of me, of what I%u2019ve been. Of what I%u2019ve become. Its not an easy realization rather, this is the last straw, my barriers are gone- walls I%u2019ve built up for the past twenty years and in the light of the mirror and their rubble, I hate myself.
Best way to put this, I%u2019m an addict. A person with an addictive personality. Yes, for a while it was drugs and chemicals, but even before that, there was a trend of dependency in my life.
The music, that is still the best and sweetest of all. My sanity when everything else is gone, and the thing I turn to in the end, when all else is failed. Nothing thrills the blood in the same way like playing to thousands of people, screaming your name because you play%u2026 and that is an addiction too; fame. Brilliant, white-hot spotlights, the seething masses, the feel of metal guitarstrings under my fingertips, and the music, sweetest destruction, crashing and breaking over me like a blessing, never drowning, only lifting me onto it%u2019s sheer heights.
However, I%u2019m getting ahead of myself here, and rather distracted. People are my other addiction, one that has the power to destroy, and one that has almost claimed my life before. She was not my first, but she was the strongest, and the start to the spiral of self-destruction. I wanted to live her, breathe her in, taste her like an exotic spice- what, with her fall of raven hair and lithe lines, flesh pressed to mine and limbs tangled with careless abandon- to my blood she called like a siren of myth. And, like with all addictions, something has to break or you will die. And she, my sweet addict of the needle and powder, destroyed herself, and in her burning, almost destroyed me. I fell with her, yes, but fell away, spit out like some unworthy sacrifice, and my dependency stripped reason, sanity, logic, call it what you will, but they were ashes on the wind of my despair. Never had a bulled looked so easy, compact leaden cylinder of death. Did it have my name on it? I had hoped so.
The first major barrier in place, a phoenix born to death reemerging from the flames, I threw myself to the underworld. Didn%u2019t matter what it was, I used it to speed my mind away from the memory of her in our bed with someone else (the addiction before me) and paying for the trip. It still comes in waves of longing- for the caress of light in my veins, the rush of the surf, the brush of wings at my back, sensations impossible to recreate now- I%u2019ve changed too much.
And there was you- light of my world, joy of my heart, pulling me (forcibly) from my shadowland where I played the self-destructive king on a fool%u2019s throne. Nothing will ever compare to my love for you now- distilled to pure need. Need to feel you beside me in the morning, need to se you in everything in nothing, need for you stronger than my need to breathe, but then%u2026 then was a different story.
You are my high high strong enough to hold forever, addict in willing chains at your feet, but too caught up in getting everything, I wanted another too. Calling to my blood, it was temptation I should have known better than to give in to, but it was a sickness I didn%u2019t think I could cure, an addiction of flesh and soul combined, but I know better now.
Don%u2019t you see? My blood sang like only you could make it now. I wanted, fuck, I don%u2019t know what I wanted. Maybe to make up for my time slaving to the powders and tablets, I wanted to live, and for a while, I was king of my world. But then, more attuned than I was to myself, it was seen, a schism of worlds and a leaving that shook me to my core, brought down my then-gilt tapestries. I had told you %u201Calways and forever%u201D while begging for just one more night in his arms, and the choice was made. Nothing, no warning given, just the empty apartment, throwing me into the filth of my mental underworld with bottles for company. Even the stumbling footsteps of our son, and the music constantly playing in my head, faded behind me as I retreated behind the curtain of indifference and physical exhaustion, and couldn%u2019t bring more than a brief smile to my face, such was the strength of despair.
Do I still love him, this other addiction? Yes, always I will, but he was smarter, bolder, more aware of us than I ever claim to be, leaving me with the only reasons why life matters anymore. You. Our family. And the music. I hope that when he hears his song on the radio he%u2019ll smile for memories created en-masse, and understand that he is unforgettable, but he was right- nothing is stronger than my true addiction; addiction to my better half, and all that she represents, in all her glory.
This is my apology.