travel the lower path

I know it is selfish and petty but I like it that you are just like me, an accident waiting to happen, a wildly inappropriate person that plays the fool just for the sake of laughs (even though people are laughing AT you and not with you). and I know that it is horrible, but I love that you are drinking again and that there is someone that drinks just like me, and just as much. I always used to feel so lonely and weird in front of the disapproval of others. I like it that you understand me and that you also get that warm, fuzzy feeling that only people that enjoy booze like we do can feel. and I like that, just like me, you are willing to dance and beg and laugh and cry, and throw yourself in the barbs below our feet, because that is both frightening and exciting, and we need it, we need to move things around because we have, ourselves, created boredom out of a universe full of wonderful things. and we have to deal with it all, and I love it that, like me, you are willing to fail, fail harder, fail better; that you are happy to make better mistakes tomorrow.

but at the same time I hate it that I like all those things, because I know that it isn’t healthy, and that like me you are going to be a hurricane child forever, a dynamo in diapers, ready to blow, burst and throw shrapnel all over the place, and leave a trail of bodies underneath your feet. and I hate it that it makes me happy that you are, somehow, mine, that we are, somehow, twins, because I wish you wouldn’t self-destruct like me, you wouldn’t harm your body and your mind, drown yourself in every bottle, break shit, yell, scream and cause chaos… because I believe you have so much potential, and I would hate it to be gone someday. and I know you, I know the world fails to comprehend you, but that is because you are so smart and sensible, and the world just won’t listen, they can’t understand. I hate it that there is no salvation other than the one inside ourselves, but that we can never seem to reach it. and now that I have confessed a sort of weird, bizarre love for your ways, will you go? or will you stay close?

(I wish we could have started over.)


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