Page 24 of Rat Park
“Selfish, how?”
“Because—what have I got to give? Bonds, relationships, whatever, they aren’t meant to be all take and no give. That’s just—I’ve got nothing to give. I’ve got nothing to give.”
“You, or addicts in general?”
“Me. Or, both.”
“So, take me, for example. A former user. Still an addict, in a way. Should I not have formed bonds? My wife, my children, have I got nothing to give them?”
“Well, no, I’m not saying that. Obviously…obviously you do.”
“Then what makes you so different from me? I grew up in, as you called it, a loveless cage. I got clean at a later age than you. And yet I managed to form healthy bonds. What makes you so different? So incapable of having healthy relationships?”
Dominic opened his mouth but choked on any words that tried to get out. He remained silent, staring at his knuckles, white now from the force of his clenching hands.
“Dominic. Might it be that you’re capable of forming bonds but fear is stopping you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
“Why?”
“I already told you why!”
“Remind me.”
“I…fuck.”
Dominic sprang out of his chair, pacing the length of the office a couple of times before stopping in front of the door.
“I want to go,” Dominic said through a clenched jaw. He heard Ian shift on his seat behind him.
“You are not obligated to stay here. I would like you to calm down a little before you go, but you’re free to choose.”
The silence stretched between them as Dominic breathed harshly through his nose. When he didn’t feel like he was going to leap out of his skin, he turned around stiffly and sat down again.
Dominic ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said shortly.
“You’re all right. How about we take a few deep breaths?”
“I don’t want to do that shit.”
“Okay. Then let’s sit here for a little while. You can speak when you’re ready.”
They sat there in silence for a long time as Dominic tried to struggle through the storm that had taken over him so suddenly.
“I…” Dominic started eventually even though he had no idea what he wanted to say. “I just…I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to be normal.”
“What’s normal?”
“Normal. Normal—get married, have kids, get a job.”
“Is that what you have to be? Normal?”
“I don’t know! Fuck. What’s, just, what is even the point? Of anything? Of life, what’s the point, what am I supposed to do?”
