There comes a time when you look around and you see what you see. Come to think of it, perhaps this was all obvious before, but now everything seems more present than before, because this is wake-up time.
This means there’s no more denying the obvious or looking away.
The fall was broken by the bottom of your back, and lying flat on the ground, looking up, you start to see where you tripped or fell, and how you knew that one day, this fall was both eventual and inevitable.
There comes a time when you look around you. Like now.
You see what you see, and you realize that there’s nowhere left to fall.
There’s no more room for excuses, or the arguments you kept alive, which kept your denial afloat and left it safe enough to have hope that somehow, you can fight the facts ahead of you, or that somehow, you slip by and make the unfixable work as if nothing had ever been broken.
But that never works.
You start to realize that you have no choice, other than to accept your position, which might not be the place you want to be. In the same breath, this might not be with whom you want to be with, but this is where we are.
You wake up after the fall.
You come to an understanding and awareness takes place that hey, something wasn’t right.
Something went wrong and either we deal with this and improve, or we deny the problems and shift the blame to someone else, so we can live in our denial and blame someone else once more.
You say to yourself, “it is what it is,” but at the same time, there’s value in realizing the difference between admitting something and accepting the truth.
We have to accept the truth, so we can move forward.
No one is so innocent nor so perfect.
I can see how and why people love to assign blame or point fingers.
But how does this help?
I can assure you that love has nothing to do with perfection or the outlines, or the sexy figure of curves, beautiful eyes and an amazing smile.
No, love is the presence of emotion, despite the so-called ugly truths or the so-called defects of character because, in all fairness to the word, nothing is ever ugly when true love is in the room.
But hey . . .
It is what it is.
I hate that saying.
I hate how the saying lingers in my heart. I hate the times when I’ve had to say this before, it is what it is or worse, I hate the memories of how I’ve felt when I’ve had to say this out loud.
But either way,
it is what it is.
I’m where I’m at.
Of course, I am, and this is where I am.
To some extent, this is where I will always be.
Right here.
No one and nothing can change my wherewithal, or the sights I see. No one can change my perspective, at least not without my say so.
And whether I have the means to aspire and reach the top of the mountain, and realize it, or whether I have the ability or the endurance to do what it takes, or whether I am afraid, or more likely petrified, and to the point, whether I believe in myself, or I if I choose to live in the disbelief that everything I want is unobtainable; and therefore, when I find myself stuck in the belief that I am otherwise meaningless, the only truths in my heart are the thoughts and ideas that are true to me.
If I believe that I am a failure, then I am.
If I believe that I can improve, then I can.
This is all up to me.
Of course, this does not mean that I cannot be inspired or motivated by other people.
This does not mean that I cannot learn from what I see around me.
This does not mean that people are not helpful, or that help is not needed or required to achieve my next task in life.
Instead, this means I have to address the truth.
I have to address myself and the reflection I see when I look in the mirror. I have to undress myself and redress the naked truths that keep me afraid of the dark or cold in the warmth of other people.
If I am to be successful, or if I am to achieve greatness or, at minimum, if I am to maneuver or navigate throughout the day, and make it back home alive, then I have to realize that my efforts and dedication are up to me. The rest is out of my control.
I see no benefit in living in the belly of my resentments. I see no gift in rehearsing old arguments that have gone by, nor is it helpful for me to constantly regard the unresolved tensions between myself and other people.
I have to change the talks in my head because, and to put this simply, the buildup of self-induced arguments and fights that I find myself in are the result of a move that played out in my head.
This led me to a thought or an idea that never had to be true — but, ah, so long as we believe in something, no matter what it is, good or bad, if we believe in it, then it has to be true.
Am I right?
Believe in the fights. Believe in the preconceived notion that everyone can and will let you down. Believe in the impending doom or the eventual destruction of an upcoming or an emotional holocaust, and where does this put you?
I’ll tell you where . . .
it puts you in the mouth of self-destruction, and next, you’re about to be chewed into little bits and spit out, like some meaningless speck of useless meat.
There comes a time when we have to wake up and realize that the finger needs to point inwards. Don’t worry if no one else around you chose to accept their blame or if no one apologizes to you.
This is about you.
And that is about them.
So . . . this is not about them or anyone else.
This is about me
or you
or us
or the ability of ours to survive in unsurvivable times.
I’m still here.
I have to say this out loud to prove it to myself.
I don’t need to bleed or hurt to know I’m alive.
I’ve done that enough.
Bleed or hurt, I mean.
The weather is getting warmer.
The sun is staying around longer.
The rain clouds will hover for the next few days, says the weatherman.
But that’s okay.
I know the sun is up there and waiting to shine through.
Don’t worry, princess.
Your prince is still here . . .
always will be.
The Written Addiction 