But then.
Then I understood that suffering is an addiction.
Worse than alcohol.
Worse than drugs.
It’s said that every addiction is rooted in unsatisfied hunger for the mother.
So I acknowledged my hunger and opted out.
See, the very moment I chose to let go of you instead of holding on to my fear of loosing you, the suffering was gone.
Fuck you, handsome man. I’m not one of your plants.
There is no hook for a woman like me.
A woman who will always choose the sharp pain of truth over the lulling poison of numbness.
Clean pain is purifying.
But that is not the end of the story.
