Meanwhile there was the Roaring... Always in the back of my mind, the House and God's Country soaking through every moment of my life like dripping wet bad blood even though I had already escaped from there.
I could here the Roaring, roaring in my sleep through nightmares, roaring though every friendship I had, fueling how desperate I was for kindness. It seemed inconceivable to me that I wasn't strong. Of course I was strong, I came from the House. No one not strong could have survived that. But my strength was founded on my being a ghost in a live world. And I didn't want to let that go.
It would be awhile before I would ever get addicted to some one after that. I found other addictions instead. Alcohol was a special one, because it calmed my sleep. It turned out, everything I did to combat the Roaring was an addiction -- the reading, the cooking, the art, the studying, the work, all of it. I always needed something bigger than me, something that trumped me, so I wouldn't ever have to stop, and face my life. Those people, who I thought I had a crush on, they weren't about sex, they were an addiction. Exactly like alcohol and drugs -- self destructive -- and addictive.
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