Self-destructive patterns. They creep up on us like some familiar shadow, egging us on to find that security in the dark clutches of self denial, facilitating our swift escape from wholeness like some fly-by-night lover. They are a most eager companion when we are willing to leave our selves because to simply be in our bodies in the present is too painful or too lonely. So off we flit like a masochist on a mission – seeking this illusion here or that one there.
Drinking is the illusion of connection, providing fickle friends-for-the-night fading to fuzzy-headed memories in the morning’s returns.
Cigarettes waft their bosomly, billowy pillows of smoke, suggestive of solace and security.
Dating apps promise the escape in a big pink digital love bubble; a saccharin sop to a solitary singleton.
But by sure the best remedy is to go without and stay within. Realise that you’re at home being you, tucked away in your own sweet skin.
Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018