Aaron West, Crystal Meth, and Holiday Fractals: A Letter

Dear Loathing,

You’ve been one of my greatest friends throughout the years, suctioned to my brain like a Lamprey, swimming behind my eyes, distorting my perspective. I always knew those weren’t floaters but rather translucent snakes reminding me of how much I hate myself. Every time I rub my eyes, stand up too quick, or look at a light for too long, you’re always there.

And I wish you weren’t.

I spent years believing things couldn’t get better. From crisis to crisis you assured me it would always be this way. Behind every negative word said to me, you would echo, “They’re right, you know?”

And I always believed you.

I’m trying to get rid of you, trying to build up positivity. So when my methed-out Step-Father messages me telling me I’m a “pussy” and that I’m “not a man”, I only believe it for a little while. When I get disappointed or heart broken I only believe it’s my fault for a little while. When I’m defeated, I don’t stay there wallowing like I used to.

I went from “I’m starting to believe that there’s a God and he hates me” to believing in myself instead.

So when my brother tells me he loves me and that I’m the reason he’s still alive, I can detach that Lamprey from my Hippocampus. When my friend encourages me in my passions, it gives my brain a moment to heal. When I think about leaving this place behind, moving out to the mountains, I’m not filled with doubt or feel defeated.

It’s been a long while since I’ve had hope, and I’m afraid I’ll lose it. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing, and to most this would feel magical. The sight of snow fills me with fear. That cold white dredges up so many bad memories. This holiday season has always been hard and I’ve been so disillusioned over the years. You always comes back, Loathing, and that’s why I’m afraid. Every time something negative happens I know that you’re waiting with a handful of dead sunflowers ready to spit in my face and say, “I told you so.”

I’m trying to dissociate the white of the snow with the trauma in my life. Snow is such a wonderful thing and I’m tired of feeling afraid of it. I’m tired of it reminding me of you. I’m clinging to hope that you will stay away, that I’ll have the strength to keep fighting you, and that I’ll continue to have the will to pursue a more whole me.

Sincerely,

Your Oldest Friend and Newest Enemy

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