I guess if you don’t know
then you won’t know what it was like
or how it felt to wake up one day
and look back
and be like, “What the hell?”
I guess my life is mine
and since my so-called version of life
or my opinion is only subjective,
then I realize that thoughts and opinions
are both subject and open to interpretation,
and in all fairness,
I would have to say no . . .
intention and interpretation
are not always the same.
But such is life . . .
and I get that.
I do.
I also get the fact
that no matter what I do
or say
an enemy will always be an enemy
and while a friend
might not always be a friend
lo and behold,
I will always be me.
Therefore,
I have to make changes
and find out how to make my way
to be where I want to be.
As a matter of fact,
life will always change.
Adversity will always be around
and so will letdowns
so will heartache
and so will the heartbreaking tasks
that come after you lose everything
and have to start over again.
I am sure that I am not alone
when I say
I know all about this
all too well.
Therefore,
if I am to improve
or if I am to adapt
or better yet,
if I am to overcome
and, at minimum,
if I am to live my life accordingly,
then I must realize
that my life is mine,
and while I may or not find help
when I need it,
life is still happening;
and opportunities are everywhere
which means the rest of my life
is up to me.
I have been told
that nobody cares.
I have been told
this is how life is
and that I should
deal with it!
In fact, I have a shirt that reads
“Nobody cares
Work harder.”
I wear this shirt to remind me
that no one is here to save my life
and while some people
are absolutely lifesaving,
the fact remains
that I have to save my own life,
every goddamned day.
I have been told
don’t trust anyone
and I have been told that
people can and will turn on you.
I have been warned
about the knives that
will inevitably find their way
in my back
and I have been told about the opportunists
or the emotional, social, or physical
and financial bullies.
I have heard and seen what comes
with the vengeful parties
who love, live for
and seek revenge.
And I have been part of this too
like a cog in a machine
that makes an ugly world
go around.
I have been called no good.
I have been called a loser
a cheat
and I have been called a crook, a criminal,
and I have been called a liar.
and told that I am stupid.
and yes, I am still called “addict”
a junkie, a thief, and yes,
I have been called crazy
as in certifiable.
I have seen ugly things. Or better yet
I have seen, felt, and experienced
parts of life that I would not
wish upon anyone
— not even an enemy,
or not even someone
who supposedly deserves it.
And so,
what does this make me,
aside from human?
But again,
I suppose, like I said,
if you don’t know
then maybe you can’t know.
They talk about this thing
we call awareness,
and I wonder what it means
to be “aware”
because as far as I can tell,
no one in the world
can say that they are unaware
that sadness exists
or that chemically speaking,
I believe that everyone is aware, if not
everybody knows somebody
who lives with depression.
It was not too long ago,
early in the morning
or should I say
it was earlier than the time I wake up,
which I am told is ungodly.
There’s never been a good phone call
at this hour.
Never.
The phone rang,
and, of course,
I answered.
I learned that a man
who I call my friend
chose to end his own life
and the life of his wife.
If you don’t know,
then I suppose
you wouldn’t know
what it’s like to understand this
from a different perspective.
And there I was
in the middle of different downfalls
different fights
arguments and dealing with
a breakup that hurt me
as well as someone else.
I thought about the usual ideas
like ‘what’s the use,’”
or “what’s the difference?”
Nobody cares, right?
I should just work harder,
Right?
A person who I admired
and love and care for is gone
and by the way,
this is someone who I would call
brilliant and talented,
good at heart — and now
he’s gone.
Was there something for me to see here?
Was there something for me to learn
or recognize?
I don’t know.
I wish I could change what happened
or that I could change what was,
but the fact remains
that I can’t because what was, still is
and if you don’t know
then I suppose you will never know.
They call this month
Suicide Awareness month
really?
It’s funny because some of my fights
and some of my enemies
would love it
if it were me.
But no.
Sorry to disappoint you . . .
or should I say sorry
not sorry.
I know there is something out there
and I know there is love out there
and I know there are beautiful things ahead.
I don’t want to live my life
and believe that someone
has to lose
just so someone else
can win.
I have been told,
“you know,
nobody wants to read
that shit you write.”
No.
I suppose no one does.
Then again,
I’m not here to be read
or liked,
or anything like that.
I come here to ease the mind
and find peace.
Besides, what else can I do?
I can’t sing.
I can’t shoot a good jump shot
to save my life.
I can’t paint or draw
but this . . .
this is something that I can do
and whether I do this well or not,
I have a shirt
that reminds me of what to do.
Nobody cares.
Work harder.
And that’s exactly what I plan to do.
Sleep well my friend.
The Written Addiction 