if every fool wore a crown I would be a king and not a clown

Once again I am foolish.
Once again Bristol stands ugly and aggressive before me.
It's thick shoulders bouncing as it laughs at me.
A bastard.

All my memories leave me totally naked in the light of this city.
And oh so suddenly it doesn't feel like home, just when I need to be.
Because once again I've been a classic fool.
I must have forgotten that all that fragility and vulnerability was running through my veins. Or perhaps I thought for a moment too long, that something good might finally happen. Either way I've been silly in my brain again.
I am wrong again.
Obviously. Classic me.

I am aware this doesn't make much sense.

A couple of things have happened recently that have very almost caused a relapse.
I haven't relapsed. But I'm really struggling.
And it's not because I want to have a pint, and be silly, I'm really struggling because I'm hurting. Because I've come home to feel a million miles away. Because I'm missing so much and so many.

Again I am reminded. Again I am reminded that my recovery comes first. Again I reminded of who I am. I am an addict.