In a way, I think the reasons we stand
or fall are all somehow predetermined
when it comes to this thing
which we call fate.
I think that is a necessary walk we take
and the dead-ends or the defining moments,
and the eye-opening events
which happen
are all moments of note
so that we learn to be better
and see the big picture.
It is not always
a clear thing to think about—the future, I mean,
or the things that we hope for,
or the ideas that we have about tomorrow.
I am not always certain of the future;
however, I am more than certain
when it comes to who
and what I want my future to be.
I want the simple things.
I want the basics and yes,
I want the white picket fence.
I want the good life.
I want the existential “ahh!”
or that sigh of relief that comes
when your body settles in a pool
like a warm bath
or finds that great plateau,
as in a moment of bliss
or that costless sense of euphoria
which comes along
to euthanize the pain
or discomfort of our regrettable past.
I want to find myself at a seaside place
for breakfast
like, say,
somewhere near the hotels
and somewhat like paradise
where palm trees bend ever so slightly
and the wind lifts the palms,
and the ocean in front of me is kind;
the air is sweet, the sun is warm,
and as I order my juevos rancheros, with steak,
and poached eggs
and as I find myself connected at the hip,
next to the warmest heart and soft skinned, beauty,
I can take in the surroundings
mixed with the air of the southern winds
which move by and me . . .
I am in my most perfect heaven.
I am closer to the dream and closer to my finest moment.
I am closer to the different varying segments
of an intimate moment, sexual, of course,
but this is more fulfilling than
just a quick romp between the sheets
or some random ordeal of lust
between two bodies, skin on skin,
and sweat-driven from the heat.
However, this is only a part of my heaven.
Lustful, yes, but not limited to a lusty appetite
because to say this is all it is
or to only call this love and lust
is an understatement.
I want to find myself in the playlands of my heart.
I want to revisit my ideas and fantasies
on a rooftop pool
alone at last.
I want to exit the previous categories
and remove myself from the old internal banter
and allow for a new conversation to take place
in my head.
I want to rid myself of the insecure scripts
or the unneeded arguments
that take place in our minds,
and I want to stop thinking so much, or overthinking;
and more, I want to stop the thought machine
from tripping or spiraling out of control.
My hope is, as follows,
I want to find myself in a place of comfort
and peace because otherwise,
I will never find my place in the sun
if I cannot be comfortable within my own skin.
I want to improve as a man
before I can be the man
of anyone’s dream.
I want to be happy.
But then again, who doesn’t?
I want the dream.
I want the ride on the ferris wheel.
I want the walk through a carnival
and feel like I did
when I was young enough to win a prize; but more,
I want more than just the lights and the flashiness
of the carnival. No, I want to find this
and have this last for the rest of my days.
I want to move away, in a sense,
which is not a physical move
nor is this a physical transformation
by any means; however, and in the spirit of my hope
and in the spirit of my new journey,
or should I say,
this new journal,
I want to divide myself
and separate from the old mind
to allow my new mind to take shape.
I have this vision, which is more than just about me
and more than just something about love or romance.
I have my heart, which is pure but imperfect.
I have the need to see and notice,
and to touch, taste and feel.
I want to run through the waves of some tiny island
and rest upon the shore, with literally no one else around
except for you, and yes, I want it to be you and me,
or you and I, or simply, I want it to be us against the world
because in my heart and in my mind
and moving deeper,
which means even from the depths of my soul,
I understand the depths of my mistakes,
and I understand the wreckage of my past.
At the same time, I am here and hopeful.
I am here and wishing. I am here and working
on transforming myself from who I was
to become who I’ve always wanted to be.
I cannot fix the past, nor forget it (sometimes) however,
I can make changes and I can advance.
I can change and improve, and should I find
that my advancements or my improvements
are either not enough or too late in the game,
I can say this – no one can ever tell me that I quit,
not now and not ever,
and not even at my last or final hour
because no matter what; my heart is my heart,
my love is my faith,
you are my hope,
and this journal is my way
to reach out and build a better life.
I was thinking about the question,
if people deserve another chance.
Maybe the answer is no.
Or, maybe the answer is, “it depends,”
and depending upon the answer,
my answer to another chance at life, or love, or both
is as follows—sometimes chances come and sometimes they don’t.
But my hope tells me always be prepared
because true love cannot be broken
or destroyed.
So?
My hope tells me to keep going
and to trust the process.
Don’t give up.
Not even for a second or even if the thoughts turn backwards
or not even if the heart is in despair.
Don’t give up. Not now, not ever
because love always finds its way—so,
let the impurities burn out
and let the truth rise to the top
because at some point,
I know that my dreams will come true
and I know that you’ll see this
which is why I will never quit.
Not now.
Not ever.
The Written Addiction 