Restless

I can barely breathe, my heart flutters and my fingers tremble, I can't sit still, I tidied the kitchen while doing the washing up and emptying the dishwasher, I put clothes on the line, put a new load in the machine, washed the rusty pots and made a note to buy new ones, despaired at the state of our only teatowel, I should buy some nice new ones, constantly glancing over my shoulders for the watchers I feel are there, brushing invisible cobwebs from my arms, get dressed, no not that top this one, these leggings, no that skirt, jeans or hotpants, skirt? skirt, yes, that one, have I no socks at all no ah there they are, three to-do and to-buy lists full of everything in the world and a sorry bank balance, the leftover rice is gone off, that cheese is well hard by now, clip my hair back, no tie it up, it's so warm today isn't it? make that phone call, that other one, and that too, need to sort that out, change the sheets, tidy the bed, arrange nail varnishes black through purple and blue and green and gold and silver and you know you're procrastinating now, wear that top, no that one, look at your hands they're trembling, there's nobody around and the music is loud and I'm falling apart in slow-motion, double-time

I am. Mentally and physically. I have to drink myself to calmness. The methadone helps. So does the Ativan.

sometimes i get restless with my love interest. it's not that i'm not stimulated by him mentally or physically - i just need something more, maybe. but i never act on it. i wonder. is this true love? forgoing the excitement of new, possibly better things, in the sole belief that what you have is everything that you will ever need? giving up on searching further, because nothing will ever compare. i think it is. and i know he feels the same way. maybe we both could do "so much better" in other people's standards, but really, why do better when you know what you have, is what you need.