Are you there Satan? It's me, Morganne.
Do you know, how many thousands of hours I have sat still, waiting on you? I'm talking about HOURS, and hours, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Do you know how many thousands of hours I have wasted, driving from one side of the city to the complete opposite side, for something that wasn't even really you? Do you know, how many thousands of hours I have spent watching the people in my life; torturing themselves, in desperate agony over the mere thought of not having you, come morning time? Do you even know that you're physically, mentally, and emotionally sucking the souls of the most important individuals in my existence?
Satan... you hold the reins over my life on a day-to-day basis, and I wouldn't dare step foot in the same room as you, on your best freaking day, yet you still have all the power, over whether I have a functioning day or an absolute train wreck. I'm not sure which part of you I hate more, your form/who you are in general, or your mode of transportation, aka the route you come in. The mere thought of making even eye contact with either of you makes me utterly ill. It's so unfair, especially for the "good guys", who still have the potential of living a semi-normal or average life until you come around and torture them for the rest of their days instead. Satan, you show them this absolute euphoria, to where they have no choice but to fall flat on their face for you, over the moon for you to choose them for the day, begging, and pleading at your feet, for mercy.
Let's start with your route, which is obviously 50% of the addiction in itself, and one of the main reasons people stay addicted for so long. That god-forsaken needle has completely demolished my life. I'll begin by letting you know, that because of your demented, foul, evil, selfish, and arrogant demeanor, I was fortunate enough to only bury 13 people in the past three years whom I knew personally. Each and every one of them was my friend, (acquaintances to say the least), and not a single solid one of them was over 40 years old. I appreciate that, sincerely. (NOT). You're entirely too controlling, and even when they attempted to pedal backward, trying a different path the second time around, you refused to allow that to happen.
(For instance: My BEST FRIEND in this entire world, spent hours, hours, and hours, begging you for mercy, and you still insisted on blatantly ignoring him, each and every time he tried. I'll never forgive you for the nights like those. You attempted sucking that boy's imperfectly perfect, yet severely broken and devastated soul from him, and until he (by the grace of GOD himself), was incarcerated, I think you may have stood a chance at succeeding... I wasn't sure if he was ever coming back. Let me remind you... I would've waited forever, another lifetime, in a second universe, to see that HE DID COME BACK... so you can bet you're a*s you wouldn't have gotten away with it, but it would've been absolute hell trying to drag him from the hell you tortured him with. He's simply one in a million. I was the luckiest girl on the globe, to call him mine. As broken as that poor beautiful boy was, along with the heartache life stole from him, (might as well have just stolen 3/4 of his heart and handed him back 1/4 and said "meh? deal with it".) somehow, he still survived, even without them... the kind of pain you only see in movies and hear about in songs... he lived that agony daily and handled it like an absolute champion, under pressure, on the day of their deaths, it didn't matter. He had a smile on his face, and he made it. And now? Oh, he's standing on you. SOBER. Every minute, of every day, proving he's never letting your take the reins of his life EVER again. He's in control. He will remain in control, and his stubborn, stuck-up, cute face loves every second of it. (As do I!)
I am so proud of him, knowing the path he is on as we speak, and I think of him every single day. He makes me laugh, in a way no one on the globe makes me laugh. I get to be me, the real me because only he knows that me, and he loves that me. My babies think he hung the moon, and sometimes I secretly think I do too. I miss him more than words can admit on paper, but he knows that, the friendship where there were no stipulations, no rules, no judging at ANY costs... the relationship where you pick up right where you left off, by just smiling at each other, because, well, we simply just know. He knows he's my saving grace, my safe zone, HOME, my person... the person who could've committed the ultimate, and my response would've been, "let's burn everything, where are we hiding it", type sh*t, ha!... and he knows the place he has in my life, that'll NEVER go away, and maybe, one day, we'll be able to beat to the same drum again, the right drum, the right way, together. I love you P.S.M., now and forever, mister)
Satan, as gross are you are already, that needle is an absolute deal breaker. It's a game-changer, for everyone. My friends... they, for lack of better words, worship it. In their eyes, that needle can do no wrong. To them, that needle was delivered to them by some sort of wicked angel, straight from Lucifer himself, I suppose. Because of you, and the true love and compassion you have for each and every one of them, you embrace them by taking them past the galaxies, daily, sometimes even hourly, if they can afford it. I mean, who could turn that type of treatment down, Satan? Just a little insight, directed straight at the source, of course, 75% of the individuals I'm referring to, are SO broken, and SO lost. They're SO afraid, SO confused, and more than anything else, their poor hearts are SO ashamed. You're their number-one fan though, right? The one who allows, (wait, no, not allows), ENCOURAGES, that needle to leave "bruises/welts/abscesses" all over their arms, hands, wrists, feet, neck, even foreheads, if it gets feisty one night, but you'll always remain their number one fan. Am I right? If it weren't for that slick needle, I may have been able to somewhat control/ slow down their relationship with you, to a more reasonable, tolerable, roar. But, with THAT THING hanging around? Permanently? Not a single solid one of them stands a chance, nor did the person attempting to help them.
Although you’re this powerful, evil, and inconsistent substance/ toxin that my friends just can’t fathom their lives nor their day-to-day living without you being the center of their attention and their world... I promise you this. I won’t give up on a single solid one of them. You better bring an army, Satan. You’re going to need it.
Until next time
Morganne
