I told you this yesterday
and I’ll say this again,
here and now.
Hope is not the absence of hopelessness
and life is not always the most hopeful place.
So, before we go forward,
I think it pays to be honest
and to allow for a moment of truth.
I think I’ll leave this here
before trying to be the “better one”
or before “acting” like the
one who puts the best foot forward.
I think it only pays to be honest,
at least here . . .
And yes,
life is a beautiful thing and yes,
the world is a beautiful place.
Of course it is.
However, and with that being said,
I think hope is vital
especially when the world seems hopeless.
Hope is essential, yet
how does one have hope
when situations are unfortunate
or what do you do
when your circumstances
are against you,
or you’re unhappy?
How does a person
find their secret of endurance?
Better yet,
how does one endure
the unendurable
and walk out clean
or get to the other side
of things?
These are honest questions.
In fact,
I think these are important questions as well.
I say this
because for some reason,
people, fail to speak up
or speak out
or speak openly and honestly.
Maybe this is due to a fear
that somehow they’re unacceptable
or flawed to the point
that they are secretly worthless
and then
behind the mental scenes
in their mind, they’re trying hard
to keep their fear in check
so the rest of the world
doesn’t notice.
Why is it not safe or supported
to speak about this,
openly and honestly?
Why do we have to hide
from tears or hide behind a mask
and fake a grin to cover up
an alternative emotion?
Why?
Why is it unsafe to cry
or to be vulnerable?
Why not be true
or honest
or why not be you?
Why?
I think about the wheel,
or the so-called hamster wheel . . .
you know the one,
right?
Little hamster in the cage
gets in the wheel
and then runs and runs
until its little hamster legs
can’t run anymore.
I call this anxiety, by the way
or better yet,
I think I call this me
at times.
Anyway. The hamster wheel
is the wheel that we find ourselves in,
and I mean this from a thinking perspective
and there we go . . .
running and wasting away,
losing energy and strength,
and we can’t stop
until our body gives way.
I’ve heard people tell me,
“I want you to take care of yourself!”
I take better care of myself than they do . . .
. . . but, because of my honesty
or because of my openness to talk
or to discuss emotion
whether its good or bad
somehow, the assumption of pain or sadness
suggests that I am not taking care of myself
when, in fact, this is only a projection of them
or their cases, because in truth,
they are not taking care of themselves.
Which is why, and I say “dammit all”
this is why I am me.
I would rather be honest and open
than live a lie
ever again
but, and in fairness,
I have lived with lies
and I’ve lived a lie
but I lost my comfort for it.
I lost my comfort
for having two faces
and speaking from both mouths
and being fine with it.
I used be that person,
but I don’t like him
so I decided to let him go
So, rather than digress,
let me move forward
and leave the past
where it belongs.
Hope . . .
its not an easy thing
but it is essential.
I think about the way adrenaline
courses through our veins
or how this happens
when the anxiety hits an all-time high,
and all we can do is wait for the energy to spill
or until our body literally hits the wall
and exhaustion hits, and then?
Then what?
How do you get back up,
or how does a person “keep on, keeping on,”
when the ideas
or the hopes
or the visions for their future
are either changed
or crushed,
or vanished like a bad word,
unfortunately spoken
and disappeared into the air.
A bad word after it speaks . .
which leaves nothing else behind
but the unseen aftermath
of pain or hurt
or the fact that yes,
life hurts.
But then again . . .
this is about hope,
right?
Sometimes
the most hopeful thing
anyone can do
is throw their hands up in the air
and say man
this hurts.
Sometimes
the most hopeful thing to do
is to be honest,
be transparent,
and be ready for the next day
because
somehow,
something can change
and regardless to what anyone thinks,
it will never be too late.
to live,
or love again
The Written Addiction 