An Addict

I’m supposed to be a wife; instead I’m a buddy. You know, my husband and I don’t kiss, only buddykiss. But yes, we are married. Oh and, I am a Mormon. I’m not sure that makes me more human; in fact, I am not sure what that makes me in general, but my husband and I are Mormons. What I know for a fact is that it makes him hide things from me. But maybe that’s not because he’s a Mormon. Maybe that’s just because he feels so bad about his secrets. I am blabbing once more. I guess, that’s because I am not clean. Yes, I’m supposed to be clean; instead pills poison me. I always tell Joe that I don’t take any. Because, sometimes, I really don’t. Sometimes. But then there are other times, when I… take one, two, and maybe three. The pills sometimes make me forget that I am lonely and that I have a monstrous man in my bedroom. But they never make me forget about my name. I am Eliza. Eliza Juels.


I am not sure what time it is right now. It could be 10 o’clock in the morning, but it could also be sometime in the afternoon. Joe has not come back from work yet, so I guess it is not dinnertime yet. Also, the curtains have been almost closed all the way all day, and I have been sitting in this armchair ever since I got out of bed. When Joe left for work this morning, I first slept in. I always sleep in, because I can. And so I do. There is not that much to do around the house anyways. Sometimes, I leave the cabinet doors open so I can close them before opening them again. It is always quiet, so I don’t even know if its rush hour for others outside my house. Sometimes, I imagine minutes to look like snowflakes. Almost see-through and very light. One touches the earth at a time, and together, they have a big impact on human life. I have never seen snow—I guess, my minutes have melted.


I am in my house. I am in my living room. I am in my armchair. I am curled up. I don’t really move, because I am in a very comfortable position. I am surrounded by darkness—I almost feel like a baby in its mother’s dark womb. Every now and then, my mind is in a different place than my body, which sometimes feels a strange. Also, sometimes my body follows my mind, and then we go for a little walk. We meet new people. We have conversations. Joe never knows about how much I actually go out; he wouldn’t believe me anyways. Go out by myself. Go out of myself. And after a little while, I return to the chair to sit a little more. Joe believes that I sit in my armchair a lot.


There are windows in my living room, but I have closed the curtains. Actually, one is not entirely closed, which means that I can see the snow outside. So naturally, darkness surrounds me. There is furniture around, I know that, but my vision is blurry right now. I probably forgot to open the curtains this morning. Maybe I wanted them closed. Whenever I get up, I can feel the carpet underneath my bare feet. I like walking barefoot. When I reach out for the little table by my arm-chair, I can easily reach the phone that is sitting there in abandoned solitude. It hardly ever rings, but I still stare at it. Oh and, how could I forget, the man in my bedroom is there, too. I can feel his presence—I always do. He is always there. But luckily, there is my arm-chair, which surrounds me more immediately right now. And the loneliness, which also surrounds me. It always surrounds me.


The circumstances that Valium provide me with are the ones that I prefer, definitely. The little pills make me breathe more calmly, and they make my mind travel away from the thoughts that are hurting me. So when I am taking the pills, I am waiting. I am always waiting, actually. I am waiting for Joe to come home, for something to happen. The only thing that ever happens are the Valium-hallucinations, and I have started to appreciate them. I don’t need them, really, which means that I am not really addicted, right? I simply prefer these circumstances to the chaotic, harsh, and yet always boring truth that my real life, the lonely one, consists of.


My relationship is mainly indifference. I don’t think that it is the pills that make me feel this way about many things, but rather experience. Since things don’t ever change, I have gotten used to the sameness of my daily routines. However, today a little incident made me feel something else as well. The phone rang, which it hardly ever does. Answering also felt weird, because the event was so different from all the daily sameness. But I did, and it felt surprisingly good to get a phone call. The cycle was interrupted for a short period of time. For a few seconds my relationship with life was alive, active, and independent from Valium and my lying husband. Who was talking to me from the Other Side.


I want a baby. I want to not be lonely anymore. I want the truth. Joe did not just call me to ask if I was clean for once, but to make himself feel better. In fact, he did not just NOT kiss me after work yesterday and the day before yesterday because he was tired, but because he yearns for a man’s lips instead of mine, the ones of a woman. He avoids sleeping with me NOT because he does not want a baby, but because it is not a pleasurable experience for him. He told me I wasn’t pretty. He told me he did not want me to look the way I do. But I don’t want to dress up anymore. I just want him to tell me truth instead of asking about the weather.


Oh I have stopped counting all the obstacles that are in my way. There are so many of them. Being a Mormon is in my way; it keeps Joe from being honest with me. Being a woman is in my way, because my husband loves men, not women. Being not very pretty is in my way, because it makes my husband love me even less. Being alone is in my way too, because it makes me take these tiny pills. These pills are in my way, because they transform me into someone I am not. But I need them, because I want to be someone else; in fact, I ought to be someone else, ought I not?


I wait. Sit and wait and imagine. I imagine lots. Sometimes I get up and then sit down again. I answer the phone; I do what I need to do, what I ought to be doing. You know, Joe is only going to tell me the truth if he is ready: no need to rush! Yes, he might be going to Washington, or Georgetown, or wherever, but so what. I have all the time in the world, and so I wait. Except that I want a baby real bad, because now is the right time for me to have a baby. Since I really do want a baby, I try to make Joe like me, think I am pretty. I do try to make things work out, but they hardly ever do. Never, actually. So I take yet another pill.