So, yes, Laura has a boyfriend. But, we have an issue. Said boyfriend has a substance abuse problem. I don't know what to do. He lives in another state. He's obssessed with me. He isn't a born again Christian, but he is searching. I am afraid that while I sent him a bible, I am actually standing between him and Christ. Unfortunatly, I don't know where to move to. If I cut myself off from him completely, I KNOW his substance abuse will become worse. I am trying to hook him up with other believers.
I have a decent sized amount of homework due this week and I ended up staying on the phone with him for almost 4 hours, listening to him. I read him a part of my devotional, which made his ears perk up, but he couldn't stop telling me, in every fashion one can possibly accomplish this, that he loves me. I am really really REALLY upset. I don't mind hearing it, but he needs to focus more on God and less on me. I mean, we can talk about anything, especially God. Still, I just... I dunno. I am really worried about him and it is making me upset. I just wish he would stop. He's only going to hurt himself. I told him if he called me while he was drunk, I'd hang up on him. He keeps talking about us getting married. He said he'd even wait 10 years if that's how long it took. But... he was drunk!
AGH! *collapses* xp
I wrote a poem to get the stress out. I switched into my city lingo for this.
Beatin’ back the dirt
Cryin’ in the street
What do you do when yer lover comes home as smashed as an old tin can
Barely a man
Blood runnin’ thin
You can’t get in
His head is swarmin’ in hues of poppy fields and coaster wheels
Screechin’ and rumblin’
Yellow and teal crash and smash ‘till the coaster stops
And up comes the buckle
Blarin’ lights whirlin’
Crimson as his own thin blood
Horns rocketing inside his head
EMT says he ain’t dead
But he’s damned lucky to be alive
Yer still not inside and maybe it’s good you ain’t
‘Cause the migraine’s don’t go away
Nor the waves of nausea when he can’t get another
Sittin’ in the white room
Lookin’ dumb as an angel that tripped and fell out of it’s own cloud
“Now don’t you look the fool”
And yet you wished it had been you
That’d been taken up the liqueur at half past nine
And killin’ every dime just for another joint
To satisfy the black desire
That built the iron tower he’s hiding in
His will’s paper thin
Devil’s doin his own lil jig ‘round the hospital bed
And in and out a’ yer lover’s head
While the flaming sword sits absently aside
And a small voice whispers “First admit your pride”
The Guild for Believers of Salvation through Christ
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