I saw you yesterday.
I saw you in the eyes of a young girl. She was frail and her skin was red and erupting in anger. It’s easy to spot you inside of people when you know what to look for. I saw you under her fingernails, tangled into her dull, matted hair. I saw you in the hollows around her collarbones. I saw you trying to hide under the long sleeve shirt she wore despite the ninety degree heat that hung like heavy, wet laundry on an already overburdened line.
I saw you last week.
I saw you in the parking lot of the grocery store as I pulled into my parking space. There you were, hanging in the air between a car window and a pale, shaking hand. I saw you folded up in between the three crumpled twenty dollar bills. You didn’t even care that everyone could see you right there in the open, you weren’t even trying to hide. I saw you last week in that parking lot, but nobody else could see you creeping further into our community, seeping into every open space and into every vulnerable soul. Of course, people know you’re around. But they didn’t see you. I did.
I saw you last month.
I saw you hanging around outside the clinic where people go to get help. You’re just so insidious, sitting there waiting for the next person who isn’t quite ready yet, who is still a little vulnerable, who still listens when you call. I saw you there when the checkout girl from the gas station down the street approached my partner to ask for her clean urine. I saw you when a fist full of Xanax were passed from one shaking hand into another. I saw you as nurses and staff came sprinting outside with Narcan in hand to the car parked against the fence where a father of three was slumped over his steering wheel. I saw you too many times last month.
I saw you a few months ago.
I saw you in the long, snaking line outside the funeral home. I saw you in the eyes of mourners, offering their best sympathies to the parents who are burying their child, at the same time knowing they brought you as their guest to the service. I saw you in the burn hole in the pants of a former classmate, struggling to keep his eyes open, as he wonders to himself if he could be next. I saw you in the casket, in the dead body laying in front of me. That body used to be alive with purpose and promise. Now it’s just the two of you, tied together forever into eternity.
I see you everywhere, every day.
Not a moment passes without you trying to sneak your way in, lurking somewhere in the background, always watching and waiting for your chance to get back into my life. I see you in those texts that still come every once in a while when an old dealer gets a new phone number. They don’t care that they haven’t seen me in three years, because they know you will always be there and today might be the day I let you win. I see you in the scars on my skin from where you got inside me, those black and red splotches and blotches that just never seem to fully fade.
I see you in the clients I meet at my job, where I put my armor on and get ready to wage war against you. I use every weapon in my arsenal to try to fight you off, push you back, cast you out. There’s medicine and there’s therapy and there’s twelve step meetings and there’s friends and family who support us and all the while you hang in the air around us. Because our weapons are only enough to subdue you, enough for a daily reprieve, enough just for today. Because tomorrow you will be back, ready to fight another day, back to your ultimate mission.
Because I saw you yesterday.
I know what you want. You want me to come back to you. You want me to be your slave again, your partner, your lover, you want to be my only friend. You want to take everything from me that I love. You want me to remember the good times, the happy days, the warm blanket, the arms of the angel. You want to possess me, own me, control me, and then kill me.
I saw you yesterday, just like every other day.
But you didn’t see me.
©Copyright 2018 In Angel’s Arms and Lauren Goodkin