empty devils

The drugs run out so we return to the place we started. My house is like a mausoleum of memories, a shrine to the girl I had wanted to be before all of this. The plants are beginning to die, neglected and left alone for too long. I am frantic to destroy everything that reminds me of what could have been, the things I know I'll never have. We step inside and close the door and I am struck with such a sense of claustrophobia, I have the feeling of being entombed. 

With no pills left, he places 2 tabs on my tongue to calm my frenzied mind. The world dissolves slowly into a watercolor painting and we lay on the sloping hill behind my house, staring at the clouds.  The world is a kaleidoscope, I murmur, running my fingers through the long grass, watching the sky and mountains merge into each other as if playing hide-and-seek. The sun is warm on my skin and I feel as light as a balloon, weightless, like I might just float off into the atmosphere at any moment. The veins in the leaves on the nearby trees pulse and instead of blood, it is as if I can see light flowing through them. We wander to the riverbank and find a 70's rattan rocking chair that someone has left propped up on the sandy beach. We sit in it and marvel at our discovery. Everything feels as if it is in perfect synchronicity. We watch an eagle catching fish in the water and I climb a tree for a better vantage spot, becoming entranced by the intricate patterns in the bark and the way they seems to swirl and move, an ever-changing labyrinth. Walking home, he slips his fingers between mine and it feels less like being caught and more like being soothed and I wonder if I've mischaracterized him all along. 

In the come-down, there is no afterglow. I sleep all day and wake up, nauseated and headache-y. I feel rubbed raw, wilted. I lay curled in bed in the fetal position all evening. I want to be alone but I don't want to be left alone, my ambivalence frustrates me. He brings me a cup of peppermint tea and I snap, I want drugs, pills, and If you don't have any of those, leave me alone. But then I cry. Maybe I just want to be held. My skin feels like it's on fire. My mind spins and spins. Anything to dull it, I beg. Or just go.

Later, he returns with percs and vegetarian dumplings. I try to crush the pills but my hands shake. Let me do it, he says, gently sliding beside me. In that moment, I am so aware of how grateful I am for this pocket of light I have found in the midst of the depravity I have chosen. I am certain that, one way or another, the light will be extinguished sooner or later, but for now I will remember that it could always be worse.