Not everything was so bad.
You know?
I think about the association of smell and the times from when I was younger and the springtime came around. I remember the smell from a honeysuckle bush in the yard of someone from the neighborhood. And yes, maybe I could have called this person a friend, at one point. Or then again, maybe not.
But again, not everything was so bad or so terrible—and not every memory is troubled or hard to revisit, even despite the fallouts or the fights that took place, or the arguments or the betrayals, or even in the cases where backstabbing took place, like behind the back talks that feed the gossip mills or the rumor factories.
I have been chewed by the teeth of different character assassinations. Sure, I have.
However, it would be inaccurate to say that I never spoke unkindly or did the same thing to someone else.
I can deny certain things. But I can’t deny everything. I can’t say that everything was bad. Then again, I suppose it takes growth to say something like this.
At the same time, I suppose growth comes when we look back without resentment or when we can view our past through a different mindset.
Perhaps this is my goal right now, to look back at my life with a different mindset and to come to grips with my truths from a different point of view.
I admit that it’s funny how the mind tends to hold onto the negative over the positive. And I admit to this myself.
I admit to carrying my resentments and holding the grudges — and I equally admit to assuming the worst of someone or something or projecting my thoughts and assumptions. More often than not, I admit to the fact that nothing turned out as bad as I assumed.
You know?
I want to move beyond the symptoms of what went wrong. I want to view my life and my past without the association or the need to assign fault or blame.
Good things happened.
I danced. I sang a little bit. I ate some. I rested some. I laughed more than I can recall and while I admit there were times of doubt and distress, there was more good than bad.
I know this.
I saw my city in all of its splendor. I had the chance to eat at some of the best and worst places, and on some occasions, I suppose it was the worst places that gave me the best memories; like the time I ate tripe and some kind of weird soup on Park Avenue and 116th Street.
I remember my crazy days in Harlem. I remember the wild nights on rooftops. I remember the mornings when the sun came up and, with a full heart, I remember this wholesomely and specifically because I know there were good times.
Not everything was so dramatic or crazy. And love or the wildness or the crazy fiascos which we found ourselves with, or even the past events that left us with invisible scars —
well?
I say this is the seasoning that has flavored our life. This is why I look back now on this early morning before the sun comes up. This is why I look back at the world behind me and say, “you know what? Despite everything, nothing was that bad.”
Of course, hindsight is different than old sights. And sure, I know there were times I swore that I would feel the pain forever. I remember saying words like never and always but both never and always are very long periods of time.
I don’t want to believe in never.
But I do like the sound of always.
I need to look forward to something. And I’m not sure what that means to me, at least not right now.
But who knows what tomorrow brings?
(Or today.)
There have been so many changes. There are more changes on the way. There are thoughts and feelings, past and old unresolved tensions, and sure, I want to be able to walk along the beach with my feet in the sand and the sun on my face.
I want to take in the breath of air and let the sea calm my nerves.
I want this walk because this reminds me that despite the crazy or the ugly rituals we see on a daily basis, I know there is love for me.
I know there are beautiful things around me. I forget to look sometimes. And I might bitch and complain. I might forget the feeling of a dog who awaits my attention or the feeling of autumn when the air is neutral of either hot or cold, but crisp and fresh.
S1oon, I swear the world is going to turn beautiful.
The leaves are going to change color. The scene will promise an upcoming spirit of the autumn holidays, and Thanksgiving will be here, and then yes, December, and then the New Year will be upon us.
I don’t know what changes await me. I know that I can’t project the worst.
Well, I can. But what does that do for me?
Nothing . . .
I want to be happy.
I want to realize that not everything has to be so goddamned tragic.
Not everything was so bad.
I’m not so bad either.
And neither are you, by the way.
Actually—
You are my favorite person in the world.
Or did you already know that?
The Written Addiction 