My Sanctuary


My pain is my asylum, my sanctuary. My place of safety, my place of peace. My loneliness is a place that I can always count on. The emptiness does not judge, it just, is.

But while the emptiness is a place of personal peace and serenity, it is also a place of self destruction. Though each visit brings a little bit of sanity to my life, each visit also adds to my ever growing insanity. Like the nastiest drugs known to man, every hit brings a positive and pleasurable experience, but erodes ever more, the body of the junkie. Until eventually, the inevitable end.

In order to go forward in life, one must close the door to the asylum. The sanctuary must be locked and the key thrown away, never to be seen again. Like an addict, I must cleanse myself of the drug.

But the asylum, my personal sanctuary, has been there though thick and then. No matter what was happening, no matter who was fucking me, no matter where the beatings were coming from, its doors were always open. Though leaving the asylum is necessary, its like abandoning an old friend.

And so you see, the dilemma. The confusion.

Go forward and move on, or stick with a destructive yet reliable old friend?

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