And so it goes, luckily number 13.
I hope that you don’t mind me cutting like this but for now, I have some thoughts that are both important and time-sensitive.
There will be no glances backwards in this entry. No, instead, I am keeping it here, between us.
It’s just you and me.
For now.
At this moment, the sun is coming up on a Sunday morning. I can see the daybreak through the empty branches of the trees which appear like black fingers in the winter, gnarled and pointy, or perhaps the upward branches strike like black lines of lightening in the soft haze of a Sunday’s first light.
There is the upcoming promise of color in the horizon. I can notice a slight orange hue that spreads evenly like a belt between the Earth and the sky. It is cold now.
The temperature is somewhere down in the 20’s but the wind appears to be gentle.
I am writing to you as an adult.
I am a person who looks back from time to time just to see how far I’ve come or recognize what I’ve accomplished. This not a sign that I need the constant pat on the back or reassurance or anything like that.
Not at all.
I am a searcher or an explorer.
I am on a hunt or an expedition. I still have some much ground to cover and only so much time to find my buried treasures.
And that’s right. I said treasures as in plural or more than one.
Everything I do is a study.
I’m practicing to be on top of my game.
I want to learn. No, wait.
I want to understand more about what took place or why things happen the way they do.
I get it.
People will always tell you that there’s a reason for everything.
But maybe we’re the reason.
Maybe we’re the reason we get up in the morning – or not. Maybe if nothing else and regardless of how beaten we might be at times, regardless of the odds or the people around us; maybe we are the reason we continue – or decide to give way.
This place is a trip: Life
I’s a journey, right?
Or so they say.
It is though, a journey I mean.
And so much happens along the way.
This includes good things and bad things. This includes life-changing things; for example, the natural occurrences that trigger the way we meet. This includes life’s crazy little fiascos as well as the happy accidents which bring us to now. Yet, there is something called fate that takes us to where we’re supposed to be – or so we hope.
There are ideas and passions, and desires. Then, right there before our eyes, there is this thing called opportunity; though, it’s a sad thing when we miss it.
Or did we?
What if there’s more in store for us?
What if there’s something better or, better yet, what if there’s something incredible waiting and just like that, every ounce of pain or sadness is wiped away with the understanding of our purpose – imagine?
By the way, age pulls off a funny trick.
Age comes along and after a while, you stop interacting with the unnecessary arguments that used to be important.
After a while, you just want peace. You want to be happy and you start to recognize that all of the little pieces we used to fight over which are, by far, much less pertinent than we possibly imagined.
People will say that youth is wasted on the young.
They’ll tell you things like you’ll understand when you get older.
Then it happens. You grow older.
One day, you wake up.
You look around and you recognize the value of the moment.
You recognize the waste of the world and how we wasted valuable time on things that had absolutely no value.
I suppose this is why so many people look back with regret. Perhaps they do so because they never dared.
They never tried to take a shot or give it that extra step.
There are people who never dared to break away from their fears. They never tried to fight back against the insecure whispers that chant about their worries with questions like, “What if?”
I do believe though. I have faith, I mean.
I believe in fate and its ability to change
I believe in the soul’s right (or need) to hit rock-bottom and if we’re not careful, some of our rock-bottoms have a trap door which means we can always fall worse – or we could be worse and never know what it means to feel the victory of standing back up again – after we fall.
I believe.
I believe in the dreamer as well as the antithesis; I believe in the anti-dreamer or the dreamless, the pointless or the power of the aimless because they too have a cog in this grand machine that we call life.
I believe in the power of need or the drive to feel, to go, be, do or produce something incredible and leave something behind.
However . . .
I am cautious of the complacent. I am cautious of those who stay as they are while in contempt of those who look to worship freedom.
I am aware of what they do and how they look to shoot down the dreams of others. I am hesitant around those who carry rain in their pockets just to toss it on somebody else’s parade just to feel better. I have seen them. And so have you.
I am, however, a fan of this idea:
“Until it’s my turn, I will keep clapping for others. It’s really that simple.”
I am aware though.
I understand that life has nothing to do with being right or wrong; but instead, life is impartial because the truth is life happens to everyone. Some are more fortunate and some are just grateful enough to have an umbrella for when it rains.
There are people whose shade can dim the light of the brightest people around them.
One could say this is contagious.
Well, at least, I certainly think so.
I once wrote a short poem:
Stay clear of the man who dreams cautiously.
Beware of his passive threats,
his careful pace and his complacent grin.
He is more dangerous than you think
He is more dangerous in his mediocrity
than in motion because his style of quitting
is stealth-like and contagious.
Watch as he sits.
Stagnant… Simple…
Safe…
He is more of a threat than the ambitious
because his complacency is magnetic
His love is shallow – but absorbing
He is the greatest crime is a theft of life
A thief, because he swipes away dreams
and replaces it with envy
and envy – well,
envy is contagious too.
I see people who look to chop the knees of other people’s dreams. I see people who will always look for the problems or the lies or the cracks in someone’s facade and I hear them talking about who has “what it takes’ yet, they’ve never dared to take a chance or be vulnerable. Instead, they live as a critic because to them, this is their safest bet.
I hope by now you can see this.
My hope is that in the dichotomy of life and the rift between our so-called good and evils; as a witness, you can see where people look to take their shots whereas in other times, they would never dare.
I am aware and cautious of those who sit by and judge but they never show their own work.
They hide their scars and point out yours.
Isn’t that convenient?
They never try.
All they do is sit back with their arms folded and their head tilted to the side. Their upper lip is curled with a rigor of doubt and as they point their fingers, the mockery from their breath is foul like teeth from a rotten spirit.
But in all fairness, this is about them.
Not us. That’s why I brought you here.
This is why I want you to see.
There are people who love to say, “You’ll never make it.”
They’ll say this because they’ve never made it themselves. Or, maybe this is about a reflection of themselves as it bounces off of us.
Either way and more accurately, they couldn’t make it when they tried – so, rather than clap for someone until it was their turn, they tripped and cheated the person in front of them. This way, they don’t have to experience the shame that someone else went forward – and it wasn’t them.
This exists. It happens and the idea of noting this is not to strengthen the word of the critic; but instead, this is to validate our own best efforts because this is the true secret of our endurance.
For as long as I can remember from the days in the sandbox or on the playground or from the moments in the locker rooms at school to the arguments at the bus stop – or even more currently, from the platform at the subway or the train stations where commuters run back and forth to a job they care nothing about; or all the way up to the lofty boardrooms in tall skyscrapers where the C-Suite players go – or we can go to the water coolers in the break rooms; slander and bullies exist and their tools are intended to keep people down.
Character assassinations look to ruin a person’s commodity. We’ve all seen this.
We’ve seen the cancel culture and the social murders that took place.
We’ve seen this happen to people who look to reduce their stock.
Meanwhile, this is spoken out of foul play. This is said from those who never made it, never could, or never tried. These crazy little critiques have sabotaged the hopes of countless people who are just dreaming, just wishing, just praying that they have what it takes to make something good.
Slander from the unqualified critics . . .
It’s a real bitch!
I am aware of who I am.
I know what I’ve done.
I know my sins on a first name basis and I am not one who could cast the first stone.
No one is.
I am aware of the why, the how, and when this all took place.
More so, I am equally aware that change happens.
I’ve changed.
So have you.
Even if we don’t want change to happen or if we are ill-prepared, change is still going to take place whether we want it or not. Then again, if we decide to advocate for ourselves or act accordingly; if we choose to evolve with the changes instead of bitch about them; or if we work, if we put in a little effort; of course, there are no guarantees but one thing is for sure – no one in the world has the right to take away your ability to improve.
I can be given a presidential suite. I can have satin sheets and a silk robe. I can have all the materials and all the money and still mean absolutely nothing.
I am aware of those who put us down.
I am aware of why too.
This has nothing to do with us; only, this has everything to do with us because this has everything to do with our decision to keep going.
The intention of this journal is to give you a view and to act as a witness to what I see.
I am doing my best not to steer you in any direction; but instead, I am hoping to open your heart and share with you the view from my window.
I know this has been repeated more than once and for this entry, I am going to repeat this again.
The reason: I want you to see me, this way, exactly as I am.
No make-up. No dress up.
No decorations of pride.
Just me.
Can you see?
I am typing away in a place which no one else can see. But in my head, I am typing in an office that only exists here, in my mind.
I am surrounded by books and bookshelves. I have an ashtray on my desk yet I gave up smoking ages ago.
Some days I see this as my workstation where I gather my ideas piece by piece. Slowly but surely, I put them together the way an old man would build a model, stick by stick, delicately and accurately.
I am working on a trick which I hope to pull off before the curtain falls.
Maybe this is why it’s important for me to bring you here.
This way, if no one else sees me pull it off, at least you’ll be around to hear me say, “TA-DA!”
The cruelest thing anyone can do is steal your dreams.
The cruelest thing you can do to yourself is allow them.
It’s true…
There are people who look to destroy your hope with their doubt.
Then again, there are also people like us who secretly know the depths of our dreams and the spark of our endurance. I say this because, quite honestly, if it wasn’t for you, sometimes, I just think that I would have quit a long time ago.
But not today, folks . . .
. . . not today!
The Written Addiction 