It is dawn, early, and yes, I find myself at dawning times.
This is all new as can be, like a fresh breath as I approach uncharted times and the unknown future is about to be reborn, at least in some respects.
This is nothing new or so different. I have not changed so drastically nor has anyone else around me.
No, I have not changed nor improved or reverted back to an old or previously defaulted setting.
I have not regressed or advanced, but more — I have come to an awakening, or perhaps a moment of clarity.
It is not me or you or the times or the way things pursue and unfold. No, my relationship with my past and my assumptions have led me to where I am — and so, as this relates to me or you or to anyone in my life or in close proximity, I am awakening to the cold hard truth that there are times when things fit together and times when things do not. Next, the edges are crushed or forced, as if life could be forced or fate could be coerced—but no.
Life is life and fate is fate. Destiny is destiny and so it goes.
Whether I am fortunate to be alive again in the sense that I am in love or loved, and whether I am mutually wanted or regarded, and whether I am needed, and caressed, and if I am to have this, as in to be held in the reciprocal means of bliss and satisfaction, and if I am to be entrusted and kempt in cleanest version of love, entwined together, and connected to a soul, for the rest of my life or longer; or whether I am meant to travel on my own, as in to endure and resolve myself in the grace of perfect solitude, and should I be on my own, or if I am to learn to endure the perfectness of silent whispers without a threat of shame or regret; then I am to go this way, as in right now, to evolve as I should and see this new day as the universe intended.
Dawn—
The clouds above the horizon are long and soft pastels of gentle color. The breeze is neither too cool or warm, and the hour is early, the moment is silent, and the day is only beginning.
It is simple to look and think of who said what or who made the first mistake, who drew first blood, who said hurtful things, and it is easy to assign blame and say who carried the arguments too far.
It is easy to reflect on my anger or to be “pissed off!” and it is easy to consider all the crimes and the sins and the resentments—and further, it is a simple thing to blame and shred my own sanity by reliving arguments that linger as unresolved and mounting tensions, like the threat of pressure building in a steam plant, which is about to explode and destroy all of the surrounding bystanders.
It is easy to ruin the innocent and assumed them to be guilty—and sure, I am good at carrying out the threats of war. I am perfect when it comes to hatred. I am good with a quick word to be hurtful and hateful and all the while—I turn the blind eye and blame the battles before realizing that my acts and my words and my reasons are nothing more than a reflection upon me.
Dawn—
Today is a new day. This is brand new, in fact, and it would be pointless for me to poison or to molest and destroy this moment with ideas and assumptions of those who hurt, ruined, or destroyed me in the past.
Those moments are gone.
I can’t live in my yesterdays and still be present. I can’t be angry and hateful. In certain cases or with certain people, I cannot take blame or find fault in myself because of them or their ways or me and mine.
With respect to the dignities from my past or my accomplishments, or while I consider the more favorable memories, I will allow myself the opportunity to reflect and to enjoy. I will give myself the freedom of acknowledgment and room to review my efforts that resulted in good fortune.
However, if I am to move forward, then I have to move forward.
Hate will only hold me back and anger will only weigh me down.
And for now, I want to be like the sky, lighthearted and gentle, sweet like the smell of honeysuckle bushes at the birth of springtime and colorful like the vast softness of the horizon ahead of me.
It’s a new day.
I have to remember this.
When there is no more time left to argue and there is only time to realize that the hours are ticking and time is moving, then there will only be time to move and make the connection that life cannot be lived in a reversed fashion.
Face forward.
Move ahead.
I am not sure when or where, or if I will venture out west or east. I do not know if tomorrow will bring the same kind of warmth or if the winds will blow differently this time of year.
I have no idea who is waiting for me nor am I sure if anyone is waiting for me at all. But either way, I cannot allow this part of fate to dictate or determine my life or my happiness.
Maybe something is about to happen.
Maybe nothing will change.
And that’s fine.
This is perfect.
This is the start of a new day and as for now, or as for me and this moment in time, I will finish my coffee. I will think and dream and I will execute my plans, one click at a time.
No one can limit me—except for me, and for now, I want to enjoy the limitless view of a new morning sky.
I don’t want to think.
I don’t want to regard anyone. I don’t want to love or hate. In fact, I want to let my past and unfortunate remnants of what took place become history, or from a figurative standpoint, I literally want to watch as the lies and the insults from my regrettable yesterdays fade away, or disappear, like the colors of dawn as they fade into a new day’s existence and become nothing.
Not even a memory.
I think freedom is the ability to not notice or regard what took place and be emotionless, as if pain never existed — and well, if the pain is in the past, I suppose the pain doesn’t exist anymore.
Unless I want it to.
Dawn—
It’s a good time to be free.
The Written Addiction 