DAY 14 & 15: Becoming a Slave!

And he beats you, he hurts you, he makes you worthless, he breaks your spirit, and empties your soul. Since his “glorious” arrival the mirror only shows a shadow of the heroine that is now gone. You forgot what you liked, and how you were like. If the eggs were better scrambled or fried. You cry, and only his touch will bring a slight smile. His approval is God’s love, his disdain apocalyptic flames. For your “lover’s” kiss you will condemn yourself to centuries of shame. But what to do when Cupid’s arrow strokes in? There is not hope for such a girl, because the truth will simply be … she’s… just…in LOVE… with him!

You gracelessly move your disfigured body, and harshly inhale with a forward step. You feel ghastly and sick with your reflection, your self-esteem vanished and so has your health. Diabetes took over, and shooting the leg became a normal affair. Your feet are so swollen that no shoe will fit. You fear your friend’s presence, and depression rooted deep. No clothes can now hide it, no mirror will lie, and grotesqueness has your identity kidnapped. And all that it’s due to stop the destruction is running some miles, eating what’s right, kicking bad habits, finding a new approach to life. Yet… you simply can’t!… the LOVE for food has you by the hand!

You spend more nights in an emergency room than in your own living room; gasping for air you contaminate. Your clothes, your house, your car, your hair, anything that surrounds you distils the fatal smell. Your husband is disgusted with the gray cloud above. Your neighbor complaints that it’s even creping his walls. Your cough is well known all over the place, and even your kid gives you the face. The ash dry thin skin that covers your body replaces the beautiful athletic woman you once were.   You saw your mother die with her lungs tired to fight. Yet, you still say, “sorry it is just stronger than me, I guess I LOVE Marlboro much more than to live!”

Your credit card has lost the magnetic band, but you don’t know why. You hide all those bags in the trunk of the car; your fiancé mustn’t know that once again you were back. There are bills to pay and a wedding to prepare, but with lost control you go from sale to sale. If the tag is red, it just can’t stay! What is so wrong if the price is right? ... Oh wait, yes… maybe that I have no way to pay all this credit back. But how to restrained yourself you ask, if I just really LOVE to buy!

Love?

Then what is it with that little thing call love that decontrolled your senses to the extreme of self-destruction? The more you love something or someone; the more harm it seems you will self inflect… That first love, remember? The one that took your breath away if the air wasn’t share, the one that made you feel million butterflies and the empty stomachache. The same one that after many dreaming moons brought you down to hell, showing what dreams may come once the love has been spent. Its sole memory still today makes you faint, or at less weakens your legs. And yet that twister that twisted the grief, and set a Hiroshima whole in what once was a green fertile field of grace; it is now shamelessly the ruler by which you measure every creature who painfully strives to conquer what’s left. You keep searching for that sense of lost, emptiness and abandonment of oneself, as profoundly as if it was the quest for the Holy Grail. Wishing you didn’t know that you like fry eggs best. And your days are spent looking for the savage feeling that made your heart break, because life was lived the deepest when you were an addict of Him.

LOVE: All addictions start with that imprecise, delusional and fragmented four-letter word, a tiny utterance more prevailing and supreme than the last prolific uterus on Earth. When you truly, madly and deeply love something, someone, anything, you fail to remember the most important love of all… love to oneself. And it is right then when you lost the war, and become a slave.