You know the kind of girl, a wonder for a weekend, nightmare by a week. “I was her rock, her centre and her ballast” was what she called me, within our first hour of meeting, lying in her bedroom, surrounded by a party, shortly after sex. Talk about the jackpot, had I won it ? You bet your life I had because she was so beautiful, strong and yet fragile: something out of films, or maybe an explorer, but certainly something special: unique you know.
And then she started shouting. Screaming because I dropped the kettle. Life as we know it had ended and it was all my fault. And then she said “Sorry, I cannot help myself sometimes” and I was young, and still thought I could fix things, so of course I put my arms around her and said, “I’ll love you always” which is not so good because I’m slightly north of crazy myself: well “out there,” if you want to know, and being someone’s “rock” sounded slightly scary.
And then there were the tablets I took so we could share together and she would not be lonely, tripping out to nowhere, living in a kaleidoscope. discovering “Real” together. Turns out to be a kind of hell, “Real” I mean. Didn’t say that in the brochure. Wish someone else had told me, but we knew too much by then. Knew everything in truth, except the need to listen.
I was in my twenties, setting off on that road, or was it a maze, leads us beyond the range of comfort, or normal or average conversations, and now I swear by nothing, because the face I see in the mirror is me turned into Stranger. And you might help me if you’ve got a minute. Tell me where I lost myself. Could you do that ?
Am I making any sense this time, it’s just the way it sounds right, but we see what we wish to see, and then it all goes pear shape. “Ain’t that the truth,” . The truth is all I know for now, but I’ll forget that in a minute.
countingducks 
Seems par for the course to me. The secret: don’t tee off in the first place.
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Very insightful, Peter. Sadly wisdom comes to late and youth is wasted on the young. Oh, to live life in reverse!
As ever a great conversational tone belying a Universal Truth.
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Crikey it’s as if you’ve been reading my mail Sir – mail from a long way back at that!
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Loved this post, Peter. Only the Stranger in the mirror has the wisdom to write this 😉
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Brilliant. Only you can sum up life in a few paragraphs!!
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You are waxing quite poetic, my friend.
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I think I’ve met this girl! Might have married her.
” I swear by nothing, because the face I see in the mirror is me turned into Stranger. ”
Love that line.
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Phil has a son who is a heroin addict. He’s in rehab right now for the second time. I wonder if I should have him read this? Would it help or hurt? I think you captured how trapped in some alternate reality addicts are where everything makes sense, but doesn’t. I kind of know that feeling, having been an alcoholic. But somehow, I think being addicted to alcohol is different than being addicted to other kinds of mind-altering drugs. Thank god I don’t know for sure…
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This is quite lovely Peter. Found myself reading it as a poem rather than prose.
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Thank you, and how nice to see a comment from you. People in his state or position, often talk a bit lyrically because one thought often flows into another without them thinking strategically. They think aloud, rather than speak to communicate a point. That’s makes al the difference. Of course, part of us all is like him as we know.
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Absolutely, there is a part of us all like him. 😊
Oops it does seem I have missed a couple of your posts, well I missed commenting, as I do read each one and always feel a frisson of delight when I see a new post from you. I did comment on Born Surplus to Requirements but missed the two previous to that. My apologies 😄
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Makes me sad. Was she standing behind him in the mirror?
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The first few lines had me hearing Ethan Hawke’s voice in my head; the last few lines made me thinking of Truman Capote.
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We all did this, I guess, in one way or another – first love, or first tragedy, the two are rarely far apart. (Side note of admiration) You sure got a lot into that first hour…..
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All we know when young are what hormones tell us. Wisdom comes from our miscues, providing we decide not to repeat them.
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I have never screamed at anyone for dropping a kettle… but I have been slightly miffed about a cracked mug.
BUT… I wouldn’t want to ever relive my misspent youth.
Sx
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Powerful and brutally honest … ain’t love grant.
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I knew that bloke
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“I’m slightly north of crazy myself.” This will be my new catch phrase. I can totally relate.
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