Nothing comes the way they used to.
And this is not to say about the way things are
or how things have almost progressed
into some mindless way,
or how people seem to overlap or intersect,
yet, no one takes the time to notice
or to look up from their cell phone
and no one takes the time to look away from their technology,
at least not long enough to notice the signs
or to see which way the wind blows,
or how the sky looks.
But to be honest,
there’s more to this.
For example,
when I say nothing comes like they used to,
I mean the way I used to hear from you,
and when it comes to you specifically,
I think that Moms have a way of making their voice heard,
even if your voice is somewhere out of this world
or in some alternate universe, or elsewhere
or as we call it here on Project Earth,
even if your voice was to come from the afterlife,
I know that Moms have a way of making their point
in some unmistakable or undeniable way.
So much has happened since you’ve gone.
I have gone and moved and went across the country.
I have seen incredible things that I will never see again
and only now, I look back and realize how little I noticed
or how I should have paid more attention to the moment.
I have seen things
which I never thought were possible.
And I have done things
that I never thought were possible either.
I say that no matter how old a man is, or how grown,
or no matter how capable or able a man is—deep down,
the boy still exists, and deep down,
every boy needs his Mom.
It was your Birthday, yesterday.
And no, there were no calls to make
because the phones don’t ring
where you live.
I don’t know what you would say if
you saw me now, which is not to say
that I am in a bad way or doing poorly; yet,
there are so many obstacles and questions
and things that weigh on my heart;
and I mean this honestly and truly because
I have learned more now than ever before
about the material aspects of life
and how meaningless it is to have “things,”
because “nothing” means anything
when there is no love,
or when there is no passion,
or no one worthwhile to share this with.
Money is not everything, but I do agree,
money is something.
However, “things” can be pricey
and work titles can be impressive,
but lonesomeness can be inconsolable
and emptiness can be unfillable,
like a never ending void
to the point where the question becomes,
“What’s the point?”
or life becomes nothing more than “more of the same,”
especially when no one is around
to make everything different.
There were times when you tried to advise me
about this and at the same time,
I was too lost in my own inexperience to listen.
There were times when you tried to tell me
that life is more than meets the eye,
but I was too caught up in the eye-catching ideas,
to which I thought I knew better,
and I thought you were wrong.
But no.
I thought I had a handle on things, or
I believed you were just being a “Mom”
and trying to tell me what you saw,
or that you were trying to direct me in a life
as it relates to you, and as different as we are,
and which, we are very different,
there are certain universal things that translate
without a word or without language,
and to which; there are certain truths
to life that are not always apparent,
but still, not apparent doesn’t mean,
not true.
It all depends upon our readiness
or our willingness to open our eyes
and see.
Life moves really quickly.
And when you’re young
or when you’re young enough to believe
that there will always
be another tomorrow in the chamber, just in case
we didn’t pull the trigger today, it’s okay . . .
tomorrow can come with another shot,
and this is still true, to some degree; however,
the list of my tomorrows are considerably shorter
than when I was back in my 20’s or 30’s or 40’s,
which means time is moving and the clock is ticking.
This is not to say that I am old, by any means,
but I am not as young as I used to be either.
Then again, no one is.
However, and like a light that comes on in the darkness,
I can see how important time is—like, now,
or as if to say, time is and always will be as precious
as the sun or the moon, or like a Mother’s love;
time is also unbreakable
because nothing is as strong as time,
except for a Mother’s love.
I say this because nothing is as strong as a Mother’s love.
Not time, not the light from the sun,
nor the glow from the moon.
Nothing can compare to the reach
of a Mother’s love.
I find myself here and now,
in the midst of a learning curve,
and as I go, I am trying to make sense
of what’s to come.
I am an open heart, pounding and frightened
like a child after a nightmare
and hoping that something can calm
me or warm the soul.
I am in the middle of my rebirth (still) and working
on the next chapter of my life,
which I hope is my “forever”
because I have seen what a loveless or lonely life
can be and I have seen what resentment does
and, of course, as this pertains to my recent journals,
I have seen the face of my old friend, Mr. Chaos, himself,
and I have seen how I have worked hand-in-hand
with him to both sabotage or self-destruct,
or how I gave in to a misconception
or fueled the misperceptions I’ve had
about love or life, or how the two can combine
or not.
It would be nice to come “home” so-to-speak.
It would be nice to come home
like I used to and sit down at the table
and have you put a plate in front of me, as if to say,
“here, son. Eat this because I know it’s your favorite.”
Mom,
I have grown some and become mature enough
and aware enough to understand
the different sensations of touch
and warmth from the hand.
I understand how this sensation varies.
But no touch is like a Mother’s touch
and no touch has this particular impact to which,
I understand why the most common final word on any man’s deathbed is “Mom,” or “Momma”
or any variation of the sort.
I understand that the world cannot be loveless,
as long as there’s a Mother’s love.
I am not loveless, per se, but you have been gone
for quite some time.
I am in my own purgatory, which is warming up
and soon enough, summer will be here,
and my side of the world
will be less dressed for a while.
Ah summer.
There’s a trick here,
just waiting for me.
It’s amazing how people can waste their time
on such unimportant things
or how we can attach ourselves to ideas or thoughts
which we think are more pertinent to our lives
until one day, we wake up and realize that
“holy shit!”
I backed the wrong pony.
I bet on the wrong horse.
I gave myself away, or set myself up
for a insufficient trade, or to simplify this,
I see how people can waste an entire lifetime
on surface level nonsense and superficial gains
because, in the end, none of this matters.
A person can have everything
and nothing at the same time
if there’s no one to share it with.
Wealth and money does not change
the inevitable fact
that we all go in the same size box
when it’s over.
We come to a point . . .
we realize that we only have one shot
down here on Project Earth—so, don’t waste it
on the materialistic ideas or the superficial bullshit.
Don’t waste your love or squander your attention
on a life that is not deserving of you
or invest so much in something
that is unreturning of a love you have or
willing to share.
Never settle. Never surrender.
Never give up.
Never stop living.
Never let yourself gasp for air, if avoidable,
and whenever possible, never leave anything
open to assumption.
Say what you mean.
Mean what you say. Love like tomorrow
is not an option and build, go, be and do,
and live, love, laugh and learn.
This is the motto to a better, stronger
and happier life.
I don’t want to fight anymore.
But I don’t want to give up either,
which means I don’t want to waste another breath
on an argument with the person I love
and as for the fight,
I am unwilling to give up
because if something is worthwhile
I don’t ever want to give up
or surrender my love
or the meaningfulness of my heart
and waste it where it does not belong.
If I love,
then I want to love fully
and completely, and without apology
or even mercy.
I don’t want to give up
because life is too short and time is too precious
and wars are too costly.
Often, it hurts too much to fight
for the need to be right
when all I want to do is
be happy.
I don’t need to be right so much.
I think I’d rather be happy, in love,
and living a life that extends farther than
the ideas of right or wrong, good or bad
or any other Earthly judgment
that causes friction between two hearts
who only want to love one another.
I miss you, Mom.
I know you don’t send signs like you used to.
Or, maybe you do, and I might not see them,
at least not the same way anymore.
But if you can, a sign of hope would be nice.
Just one.
Or, just for today.
Please?
The Written Addiction 