I feel like I’ve said goodbye to you far too many times. I’ve thought about the times I’ve written goodbye to my addiction, my relapse, myself in my addiction, all lamenting and vowing that I would never go back.

But here I sit.

I wonder if I’ve ever said goodbye to you. The drug that kept me falling for the counterfeit euphoria of what it meant to feel confident, sexy, cool; objectified by the eyes of the gaze of affection. I thought you loved me. I thought I loved you. I sigh and realize that it was never me you love, it was the person you made me to be. When I caved and folded into you I would be the best version of who you wanted me to be. I realize also that it was never you I loved but it was the ecstasy of feeling like I was being seen, heard, and held.

You gave me a sense of fabricated self-acceptance. I ruined my worth every time you came back and I let you in. You’ve stolen my energy, my time, my money, and I almost let you steal my life. As I write this goodbye to you I know that I’ll never be able to go back in time and fix the things I broke because of you. But what I can do is mend what is salvageable. As long as you are never with me again.

I do want to thank you. Shocking I know. But you unleashed a shadow side of me I used to be scared of. You’ve shown me what it’s like to be this different darker version of myself and that is no longer something I desire. So, thank you.

I bid you farewell and though I know you will continue to try and weasel your way back into my life, with sweet soliloquies of nostalgia, I would just like to say that you just don’t do it for me anymore.

Go fuck yourself,

From the person that outgrew you.