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This one came to me out of nowhere and was begging me to be written. So I obliged. ;-)
Was wondering about the metaphor behind the whole vending-machine-incident, or "fate" as Thomas called it. Found it pretty metaphorical that she wants to start with something again that is bad for her, but instead meets him, and the most positive adult-Parker period we know begins.
My Nicotin Patch
By Ice Angel
I was looking for cigarettes, but instead I found him. Or maybe he found me…
Or maybe it was fate that when I met him a vending machine malfunctioned.
I wanted to have something pleasant in my life again. Something that gave me comfort. Some small joy. It didn’t matter that it was something that wasn’t good for me. Something that would’ve destroyed me in the long run. What was one more thing on that list anyway?
Instead I found something that was good for me. Something that cured me from the disease of being the ice-queen. Someone who brought the sun back into my life, his warmth slowly melting away my façade. Now he’s the joy in my life. Now he gives me comfort, helps me sleep at night.
Why would I need cigarettes anymore, when he’s my drug? My substitute. My everything for all that I lacked.
My drug. I used to crave for the nicotine flash that went through me with every drag I took. Now all I crave for is his voice, his laugh.
I was addicted to the way the nicotine made me feel light-headed and dizzy. Now I’m addicted to his gentle touch. Now I feel light-headed when he smiles at me, weak in my knees when he nibbles my neck.
I used to need something that helped me to feel strong, something that added to my hard exterior. Something that helped me believe I am that cold creature. Now I know that it is not necessarily a weakness to be soft…not in his presence. To let him peek behind the walls I so carefully built.
I used to need a diversion from this hell hole I’m living in.
Now he is my distraction from this “life”, the distraction I long for…maybe I can even dare to think that I finally have a “life” of my own…a real life.
…for all that I lacked.
Now he’s my release at the end of the tough days. Those seemingly endless days at a dark place that tries to swallow me, making me part of it. Finally, I can feel myself finding a way out of the labyrinth of twisted lies and hypocritical promises. Some light in my life. In his arms, I am surrounded by realness…by truth.
I used to try and stop, but no nicotine patch was ever big enough to satisfy my craving. With him, I don’t even want to stop…we have barely started yet.
I used to be so tired of fighting, of holding on to the broken pieces, trying to keep them together; so tired of preventing to fall apart. But just when I thought no patch would ever be big enough to cover up the wound that had torn into my soul, he came along, slowly closing it.
My substitute. My everything for all that I lacked.
I used to breathe in the cold smoke and it soothed me. Now all I inhale is his scent and I feel at ease, warm inside. I used to enjoy the way the poisonous smoke made its way through my lungs, creeping into every corner, sedating me. Now he is there, making his way into my life, my heart, my soul, healing me from inside out, making me feel again; un-breaking me. A true fix-it man. I can feel all the pieces that have come to shatter in the past slowly being picked up and coming together…every shard a bit of me, falling right into place again. He makes me whole. Makes me the person that I really am. Slowly, piece by piece, until there’s nothing missing anymore. Until I feel complete again. Why would I need cigarettes when I’ve got him? My substitute. My nicotine patch.