Regression

Not a week after my last post I found myself driving the twisting Briceland road back out to the cove, cursing myself aloud and holding back tears. You see, two days after the "friends feels good" evening I went to help S with yardwork. In S world no activities take place without several bottles of booze and a tray full of little chalky lines. Mistakenly I joined in the festivities of the day without eating breakfast... or lunch and dinner. A bottle and a half of red later I was texting B and flipping a coin to decide if I should accept his invite over. I forget what the coin said but I drove on over, of course I did.
We were friends that evening and fell asleep snuggled up. Sometime in the night we both woke up, I can't remember waking, only that he was kissing me. It'd been 6 months. 6 months of drought from him. That night was like slipping back into my most comfortable skin. After he fell asleep lying next to me holding my hand, I lay there thinking I hadn't felt so high, so fulfilled, for 6 months. He's my addiction. Of course detox has been rough yet again, beating myself up for being so weak, for wanting babies and a life with a man who only remembers my existence every so often. At least I'm going away again. Motion is key, I only get dizzy when I stay in one place.