I always wondered that in older times, why did people say, “What’s your poison?”.
And today, I found the answer.
Every person has his own poison, a notion he feeds himself real slow, a notion that’s slowly killing him yet is also keeping him alive. A notion he can’t let go, because the pain it causes him is the only thing he could feel right now, the only thing that keeps his heart beating.
It’s like staying alive by feeding on your own self.
A poison could be ear-bleeding loud music, the little person who says keep driving fast and drive into the river. It could be keeping quiet because you don’t want to be understood. It could be pushing yourself to the limit physically and mentally. It could be screaming loudly in deep silence. It could be staring into the darkness. It could be to lie there and feel every bit of the pain. It could be to keep loving the wrong girl.