A Letter From Self

It is morning here in Purgatory. They say the rain should hit us by this afternoon, but I don’t know these things.
The sunrise was kind and nice enough to make me believe that today would be better spent elsewhere or doing elsewise.
I’m sure you understand.
I’d rather be doing anything besides driving alongside The East River on a Saturday morning to pull another overtime shift. Not that I mind the sight of The East River at sunrise. I like the way morning looks here. I like the memories I have from my downtown scene and the more successful days, which are behind me, of course —but ah, at least I can say that I was here.

Little kids are preparing for their summertime excursions. Their schoolhouse enemies will have to subside for a while—at least until the upcoming September, which comes around fast, which means that kids only have so much time to enjoy themselves before the summertime ends. And when the summer ends, school begins, and so on, and so on.
life is not too much different. However, there is no more summer recess for me. There is no more breaks like when I was a kid.
There is no rest for the weary, which, again, I am sure this is a thought that you can appreciate.

It amazes me how life moves so fast. I am amazed at the distance I have travelled between now and then and yet; I have gone nowhere. I have moved in a big circle and I have overlapped and come back to the beginning.
This has happened to me more than once.

Life is cyclical. This is true.
We ride high sometimes, and like a wave that built tall before it folds, we crash just the same.

I remember a day in Greenwich, in which I remember thinking that I was so happy and that I was having too much fun, and that somehow, one day, I would have to pay for this.
And I did.
I’m still paying for that sin, if I am being honest.

There has to be something out there for me.
I know there has to be.
I know there is love for me (somewhere)
I know there is something on the verge or at the horizon.
I know it.

I have not seen the world, but I have seen good things. I have been to some nice places which does not compare to my hopes that I will wake up on a beach in Fiji.
I have done some things. I have broken a record, or two.
I have not done all that I’ve dreamed, but I have done more than I assumed, and for the record; I can say that I have certainly done more than what was predicted for me.

I try to stay away from these things.
Predictions, I mean.
I have stalkers and weaklings and enemies who want to pull me back, like crabs in the bucket, too angry about the upcoming steamer that boils them alive—and so, rather than try, they pull anyone down, to keep them from escaping, and to keep from them dying alone.
That which is dead, is dead.
I see that. And I get that.
But not everything dies.
At least, not if we keep them alive.

A lot has been predicted. And some of the predictions about me were favorable. Some were otherwise unfortunate or sad. And some were cruel. Some of the predictions about me came true. Some of the predictions were false.
Some of them empowered me. And some of the predictions about my life made me weak or hurt me down to the core.

It is not within me to argue anymore or to be mad or to fight. It is not that I am afraid of the bouts or that I am afraid of the confrontation.
I am not afraid to trade artillery. I’m just tired of the cleanup and the aftermath.
I have no heart for the fight, which is not to say that I am not ready to or able to fight.
No, I am tired of fighting.
For what?

I am tired of the man I need to be when faced with this kind of arena. I have grown too old to keep my battles alive, which is more than I can say for some of the people I have to fight with.
I know the places in and the addresses and I know where my enemies live.
But so?

I see them. I see that our tensions remain unresolved, —and perhaps there will be more battles and more fights and more unresolved tensions that are yet to come.

Or maybe the feuds can die.
Maybe there’s peace somewhere out there.
Or maybe this is just another springtime in Purgatory and hence, all that glitters are the gold rings on the knuckles of angry enemies.

Who knows?

I wonder if we grow from these things. The fights, I mean.
I wonder if our battle wounds make sense. I wonder if any of this will mean something in the long run.
Do the ends justify the means?
Do our fights and wars make sense?
Is all of this worth it, regardless of their costs because in the end, wars are always expensive —and so, how much does hatred cost and how much is revenge worth?

I know that wars are expensive.
I know that so is divorce.
But was it worth it?
In part, yes.
Was the war worthwhile?
No.

I know because I lost enough.
I know because I had to pay for the damages.
I had to pay restitution for my wrongs and in many cases, I am still paying, —and perhaps I will have to pay more, and perhaps I will have to pay now and even after the hour of my death.
(Amen)

I understand that certain people, places, and things are meant to fill a slot or to fulfill a moment in our lives, —and sometimes, two people, places, or things cannot, do not and will not go back together. People will not fit where we want them to.

Nothing is the same now.
Too much has happened and too much of me is ruined to go back or to pretend that I do not believe I was wronged or lied to.
I was wronged.
I was lied to,
I did my share as well.

I am done trying to rethink or figure out what went wrong or what happened and why.
My part in this is done.
The past and I have severed and split and like the old saying goes, “never the twain shall meet.”

Stay away from the lies.
They only dig you in deeper.

I am not cold to the touch and nor am I indifferent to the absence of my previous life.
I miss what I had, but the question remains; if what I had was real of if this was actually mine, then wouldn’t it still be mine.

If the life I had was truly mine, would anyone be able to take that life away from me.
No.
I don’t think so.
So, now I am looking for my real life and waiting to see what comes.
Real or not, whatever I have now and whomever I lay with—at least I won’t be living a lie ever again.

I took a leap of faith.
I trusted a lie. I trusted a liar and or more to the point; I trusted the wrong person. I trusted the pretty words from a beautiful girl because I did not want to believe the ugly truths. And sometimes, the most beautiful people are capable of ugliest lies.
(Trust me. I know)

This is not to say that I am innocent or that I have not told lies or been dishonest. No, I am far from a boy scout.
I am further from an Altar boy, and I have grown more distance from perfection than I care to admit.

It is gaining on me now, time, my thoughts, and people, places and things. All these things are out of my control, which is why all I can do is try to enjoy this moment.
Look for the sunrise to bless me.
Look for something nice or something beautiful.

All I can do is try to enjoy the scene of an orange and yellow horizon, which I saw in my rearview mirror while heading downtown. I noted the sunrise behind me exiting the FDR Drive to make my way down Fulton Street.

I have work to do.
I have hopes to have and dreams to fulfill.
I have doubts and fears, and I have a heart that beats in my chest, which is pounding a little too loudly at the moment.

It has been more than a year since our last talk. And I am not sure where you are now. I do not know what your world looks like. I don’t know anything about you anymore, which is how life goes.

I understand that.
At least, I understand that this is logic; and hence, I understand the way life unfolds from an intellectual perspective.
I get it.
Emotionally, however, I am still in that rut and stuck at the same impasse.
I know that I need to accept “what is” in order for me to be ready for “what will be.”
But Rob . . .
I am thinking about you now.
I was thinking about you last night.
I was trying to make sense of this. I wanted to make sense of your exit and the pain you endured or how you realized, “this was it,” for you.

But Rob, what if there was more?
Or what if the conclusion you came to was inaccurate and there was something bigger and better and more loving around the corner.

I know that there are times when nothing can hold us together. Nothing can stop or ease the pain, and in the case of the brain or how the mind is always looking for peace, —I wonder what you thought about. I wonder what your last realization was.
I wonder what your last words were.

I don’t know what you see or what (or if) you are some kind of spirit now. And I don’t know if the saying is true, that real friends never leave or that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it only changes forms. And I don’t know what kind of energy you are now, but I know that I am hurting too.

I had to get away after I heard the news. I ran down to Florida because I was dealing with my own heartache, aside from the fact that I knew your last call to me was a gift. I knew something was up. I just didn’t have it in me to question or ask you.
This is how people say goodbye before they end their life. They give someone special a gift. They give them  something special—and now, well . . .
I lost too much since then.
But worse, I lost the love of my life who was never mind to begin with.

I lost a good friend.
I lost my way but despite this; I have not quit nor gave in.

I just wish that I could reconnect or recreate what was and salvage my losses and turn them into gains.

I lost a lot . . .
So, if you can hear me or see me or help me, it is another day here in Purgatory. The weatherman says the rain should be here this afternoon.
I’d like that to hold off.
I’d like to see something better.

I’d like to feel a nice gust of wind, enough to blow my hair back. And I’d like to think that there is something waiting for me.
Something great—just around the corner.

Be well, my man.
look over me, wherever you are.
I need a friend
And, well . . .
I was always your friend.
I just wished you’d have called first before you made your exit.
But dig it, I’ve been there before, —and I get why you didn’t call
You knew I’d have talked you out of it
And that might’ve meant tomorrow would have come and the fear of pain or the return of pain might have been inevitable

I get that.

Or maybe something better would have been waiting for you around the corner.
you know?
What if there was something on the other side of this?

I’m sorry that you and I will never know the answer to that question.
But I know this—no matter where you are
no matter how far away, no matter if the winds are too hot in hell or the lights above in Heaven are illustrious and beautiful, you are my friend

Always ~