Rebecca, your piece captures with heartbreaking clarity the quiet devastation of loving someone caught in addiction’s grip. The way you thread longing, memory, and helplessness through each line creates a raw intimacy that feels both deeply personal and universally familiar. There’s a profound stillness in your words — like waiting in a room that no longer echoes with laughter but still clings to its ghost. What struck me most is how the act of waiting becomes its own kind of devotion, even as it slowly wears the soul down. You’ve written not just about addiction, but about endurance, love, and the ache of hope that refuses to die.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it, this was a very personal piece. I was nervous at first but I figured there had to be someone in the world who this would resonate with.
Rebecca, your piece captures with heartbreaking clarity the quiet devastation of loving someone caught in addiction’s grip. The way you thread longing, memory, and helplessness through each line creates a raw intimacy that feels both deeply personal and universally familiar. There’s a profound stillness in your words — like waiting in a room that no longer echoes with laughter but still clings to its ghost. What struck me most is how the act of waiting becomes its own kind of devotion, even as it slowly wears the soul down. You’ve written not just about addiction, but about endurance, love, and the ache of hope that refuses to die.
I’m so glad you enjoyed it, this was a very personal piece. I was nervous at first but I figured there had to be someone in the world who this would resonate with.