I SPEAK IN FABRICATED BIT TRUTHS...

Included below is a writing I submitted to my journal, in a raw form. In the scribbles that follow I will enclose my train of thoughts, scratches, and bird-walks. Maybe it is followable, maybe it isn't, that indeed is not the point.
This idea of note was not about me, but instead, this is about a man that I once loved whom is now addicted to heroin and desperately in love with a woman that hooked him to it.
Enjoy.
(...)=thought process



26November2014

Mood: Different frame of mind. Maybe a different person entirely. Can't be! I still spell and write the same, just rushed and in capitals.

Does it make me a junkie to be addicted to a feeling? The way that love caresses us softly (us=the people, me) and coo's us to (saunter, skid, sly, silk?) silk (use as a verb) smoothly back to a familiar stretch (embrace) of arms?
(Who the fuck is us?) The same feculent feeling that deprives us of self. A need, a want, a desire more than just our own; an addiction to something that might not last the year, the month, the week, or perhaps even the night.
This be indeed a whole separate feeling of self that emerges with just pure desire of instinctive impulsiveness (don't use you! so what might you use instead?).
Can you be a junkie for love? Can you?
A junkie meaning of someone in detail of a compulsive, and sometimes dependent habit on or of a person, place, or thing. A person that's soul existence depends on another, or an object.
The heavy barring of such a love would almost be intolerable to weigh... incapable of being held for long periods of time, none-the-less forever.
Are these the chains we voluntarily place upon our ankles, and wrists? Is the fiend of addiction what we are really eloping to? The small fleeting bit of dopamine that pleasures us into something we are not... something selfless, altruistic?
A person we now are as a whole, and not as a singular motion in any meaningful direction spreading seed wherever it may condone coherently right.
Am I a junkie? I don't flounder this response with a negative outlook of social awareness, decently, agreeance, or concord.
I instead wish an acceptance of the truth I lay to myself in unfabricated thoughts, and feelings, that do indeed make me a user, addict, devotee, or partizan.
Am I a different person than I once was after being abused by such an addictive drug? The answer is yes. The answer is I am a junkie. And I am okay with it.

Are you?