I can't come up with a metaphor for this next one, so bear with me: Having two addicts for parents is an interesting subject for self reflection. They didn’t not unconditionally love me - but if I were to explain their love it would be via hierarchy. They love heroin. And then they love cigarettes. And then they love alcohol. ANd then they have work. And then they’re tired. Then they love me. I never was, and I never will be their top priority. And I’ve always understood how being human makes that the case. Its okay.

Sometimes, I put people super high up on my hierarchy and shit gets weird. I accept the fact it would be frankly odd for me to be so high up on their hierarchy, but mine just has so many extra spots - spots higher up that are unfair to put them in. I can’t subject them to all that. That childish, clingy desperation for stability and priority. So, in a grand act of self-sacrifice (lack of moderation and regulation) I hide my feelings in self-defence. It hurts.

I’m hiding who I am and pushing them further away than I want to. What if they think that’s really as close as I want to be to them?