Are you ready for a little bit of honesty . . .
I am as imperfect as anyone else in this world.
I’m crazy too,
or mad as any madman.
Or worse,
I am equally as desperate and afraid that yes,
somehow, I missed my ride, and now,
I’ll miss the show
or I’ll miss my chance
to see the world
like I’ve always wished to see it.
Do you want to talk about honesty,
or humility? As modestly
as I can transform my words
from me to you,
I am about to expose my flaws and the cracks
or the crevices in my life
and the faults or the breaks
and as for my imperfections; yes,
I’m about to spell them out for you now,
as in right here,
and drop them on this page.
I was somehow raised with an idea
that there was something absolutely
different about me and,
perhaps this is due to an unfairness
which happens when we compare ourselves
to other people
or to other beauty,
but me?
I struggled to see beauty
when it came to me.
Sure, I want to be beautiful
I was, somehow,
lost in the concepts of what’s called
a perfect body
or a perfect smile
or the perfect approach,
which is why I swore,
I had to prepare
for just such an event.
I doubt that I am the only one
who went through this
or struggled, socially or awkwardly
and although I am exposing this,
I believe that somewhere out there
someone else
thought this way too
or….
they did the same things, like, say
I remember practicing my speech
or rehearsing what I’d say, just in case,
or if the chance happened
and somehow,
out of fate or fortune, or if it were just luck,
that allowed me to be in the room
when “she” would walk through the door,
I would perform the ideas
and different scenarios in my head,
and then
I’d practice because
should the lucky occasion come to me,
or should I be there when “she”
came in the room,
I would practice what I’d say.
I swear, I do believe in the healing power
of “her”
but in “her” absence, I understand
the sad and hard feelings
of being alone
or without “her.”
So, I’d practice
just in case
I got the chance
to win “her” over.
I’d act this out
so, if the opportunity would arise
or present itself, then,
I would practice what I would tell “her”,
as if to allow the role play
to exist in my mind.
But life adds challenges,
and somehow,
reality never acts like fantasy,
and my timing was always off,
as in “ALWAYS.”
or, I was just out of my head,
and my insanity
forced me to say
what I didn’t mean.
I would pretend and volley back and forth
in some imaginary conversation,
and if I’m being honest,
maybe I’d do this in front of a mirror,
to see myself
as if to find a way
so that I could perfect
what I would say to “her,”
or how I would stand or hold my posture.
I’d do this to see
if I could put on some kind of lean
to look desirable
or walk with a sway
or a stroll,
carefree, as if nothing could hurt me
or as if I were impervious
or impenetrable,
or by any measure,
I would work this out in my mind
so that I could “be” beautiful.
I’d do this so that I could be someone, or anyone,
just so long as I could pretend to be anyone else
other than me…..
I saw an old sight yesterday
with a set of familiar eyes,
delicate as ever,
the memory is tender to me,
and painful too
and redeeming as well as sad and somehow
this is uplifting for different reasons,
because in all fairness to me,
I am not the child from my past
nor am I the man I was this time last year.
I noticed this memory
and viewed my dated thoughts,
and like a vision into my past,
or like an old porthole of memory;
I saw a moment that was impactful,
or perhaps maybe this was only impactful to me,
or maybe my interpretation
left me mistaken,
and it never was as it seemed,
at least not to me.
Maybe I thought I meant more
to “her” than I really did.
I think of who I was
and how I was,
younger and out of my head,
crazy, and even digging back
to some of the darker ghosts from my history
I uncover the reasons behind my doubts,
which date back to my early youth
and too,
I remember when I was high and sinking slowly
kneeling to the horse gods
which is code for the white horse,
or an otherwise beautiful powder,
which is deadlier now,
more than ever,
and yes . . .
there I was,
thinking about myself and the slow delay
and a lazy nod with eyelid like shaded windows,
mostly shut by the blinds from within.
Man, I have been lost since youth
and time is a funny trick,
which only shows me how I’ve wasted years
and countless hours on mistruths
and internal lies
or thinking errors
and unfortunate assumptions.
There is no life
when life is lived
in accordance
to this.
I have been too many people
throughout my life, and
I question this the most:
When is it okay to be me?
Or, why should this even be a question?
I do believe that although this is few
and far between,
there are people who we meet
who make it easier, if not just “okay”
to be who we are without explanation
or apology.
When will I allow myself
the right and the freedom to be fluid?
Or rather than rehearse or speak from a plan,
when will I allow myself the right
and the freedom
to be honest instead of calculative?
Or better, when will I find the other half of my soul?
I ask this to which, when this happens
there are no such things as discomfort
or awkward moments, but instead,
there is nothing
but a longstanding or working synergy;
unstoppable by any nature
whereas there are no fears about the way I smile
or the way I look
or the wonders I have
when it comes to the worries
about my laugh or if my breath smells,
and there would be no fears about being “enough”
because in the complement
of being perfectly matched,
what would it be like
to have all the irrational fears
that stem from insecure worries
vanish from the mind?
How would this look?
Imagine how life would be simply because
“there she is,” sitting right over there
and there would be no questions
or fear of loss
concerns or sad curiosities
or battles with inferior concepts
that plague the mind
or cause me to compare myself to anyone else—
but even more
and more importantly,
what would it be like
to know that “I” am the only one?
Only me . . .
No one else . . .
And that no one else in the world
could stand in my place
or take my spot, or be better
or seen as more
or share what belongs to me,
which is “her” or my love and then,
in this case
I believe that nothing
or no one
nor anything in the world
could stop me.
I used to practice what I would say,
if the chance arrived, but somehow,
I was always out of my head
and somehow, the words I’d say
never came out right or as rehearsed
or sounded like they were “enough”
which led me to think that perhaps
maybe I’m not enough.
(Do you get it?)
I used to wish I could be cool
or believe the things I would do
or say would be good enough
but no, somehow,
I’d fumble
and do something
that placed me out of the norm
or made me seem crazy,
because somehow,
I always believed that “he”
was better than me
and yeah . . .
Maybe he is
Sure, I’m crazy.
That’s why Old Mr. Chaos and I
go way back.
I do know that somewhere,
there’s love out there for me
and when the time comes,
there will be no need to rehearse
or pretend
or compete for my spot
or to act in any other way
than who I am,
and there would be no threat or fear
that “she” would love someone else
more than “she” loves me …
I do love the feeling of love,
and no,
nothing will make me give that up.
Not even you, Mr. Chaos.
Sometimes . . . it’s too late
to go back to the beginning
right?
Isn’t that what people say?
But, if time allows
maybe I can start over
and pull this off
without a hitch,
and find “her” there
waiting
just for me.
The Written Addiction 