I am sitting here writing to you, thinking if I sit here long enough, I won’t want you. So far it’s not working. I can still smell you in the air, and hear how you echoed when you hit the ice. The splash that came with the drops, bluck, bluck.

Some days I miss you, and others I am glad I am learning how to forget you. But right now I am in ­between. Not knowing if I want to go left or right, up or down. If you are worth losing everything for or worth gaining everything to give up. You were my dirty habit, the habit that doesn’t lie far away if life gives me lemons.

How soon we forget what we did when life was good, or bad.

Other days, I just wish you were dead. Or that I had never been ­introduced to you.

What would I be like if you weren’t in my life? Where would all my pain go, and who would bleed for me without you? I have to fight this battle every day and make a choice every second to have you.

Some days it feels like I am losing. Every time I go looking for you, you’re nowhere to be found. When I am not looking for you, you’re right there smiling at me. Begging me: please, one more round.

But I know deep inside if I do, I know my fate. The fate that I ask for, but only when you’re inside of me.

Here, round and around again, doing this damn jig every day, this feeling is endless.

And I am growing tired and weak. But I know right now, this second, I am sober and I won’t pick you. Tomorrow is another battle.