Being Honest With Fiction

There has always been something different about the sunrise to me.
Always . . .
This is certainly true after the long nights that went behind me. This is also true after the bad nights that went either sideways or backwards, to which I say that I am sure we have all had our share of bad nights that went wrong
Not all of these memories were as bad as they sound. Not all were good.
Even the bad times had their moments of greatness because even the villains get away every once in a while.
I know because despite my times; I managed to escape the traps which were set to get me.
I know. . . .

Some of my bad nights were the best ones and some were the nest were my worst but either way, there has always been something about the sunrise.
Even at my worst or even after the death of a loved one, the sunrise has always been there.
And the moon too.
But the moon is something we can talk about another day.

There was always something different about the sunrise to me.
Some of them have been beautiful. Some of my best sunrises were lifesaving and some were life changing. And yes, some were haunting like an exclamation point at the end of an angry sentence. And while I use the word haunting, I offer these descriptions because when the sunrise came, I was reminded that a new day was ahead of me.
Like it or not, good, bad, or indifferent; something was on its way. 

And sometimes, you run and you hide.
You look to duck and get away from the unknown and the unexpected.
You shake and you dance like a runner with the ball in a football game. But in all fairness, no one can escape their fate and no one can escape their destiny. All debts will be settled at the end of our business day. Good or bad.
Like it or not. No one beats the ultimate debt collector.
His rates and his interest are incredible.
trust me. . .

The sunrise has always been interesting. I have an interesting history and intense memories of the so-called morning after. i have bad memories of my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were possessed, as if to be demonized and surging with the poison from the beast, himself.
But wait –

Forget about the drugs or the drug fueled nights from my youth.
Forget about the unforgettable highs or the pretty euphoria that come with ugly demons who had faces that turned cruel. Forget how the unwanted lingered around for way too long.
Forget about the wild nights or the crazy ones where the blood pulsed through my veins like a high-pressure machine.
Forget about all these things.
Forget about the adrenaline that charged my system and caused my heart sped to its maximum capacity. I nearly died, countless times and so, hence, I realize this now more than ever.
I am living on borrowed time.

Forget about the frost in summertime when the only snowflakes came from the white powders in packages that were slung on street corners and were filled with narcotic bliss.
Forget about this.
Forget about the aftermath.
Forget about the drunken mornings, sitting on the roof of my Long Island home with a flask in my left hand, a fresh Marlboro between the fingers of my right hand.
Forget about the drunken conversations I had with myself. Forget about waking up with nose bleeds. Forget about the unexplained burn marks on my skin. Forget about my desperation or the desperate plea to a God who I never understood. 

I remember this well.
I remember the new summer sunrise and how this took place and granted the sky with the colors of first light. 

Despite the fraud or the scams and the violence or the disturbing nature of the moments at hand, the horizon evolved from nighttime into daylight 

But wait –
Forget about this.
Forget about the feelings and the angst of aggressive youth.
Forget about the hatred I felt or the contempt of self.
Forget about the disgust I felt for not being who I wished I could be.
Forget about the word “potential,” and how everyone reminded that I had so much of this.
But fuck it.
Forget about this.
Forget about the pretty times. Forget about the good times.
Forget about the bad ones too.
Forget about the contrast between good and evil because despite the way I feel or felt at the time, the sunrise never ceased to amaze me.

And still, even beautiful things can grow ugly.
I know this.
Even joyful things can turn or become depressed or sad, depending upon the changes, that is. 

Or like, say, when we have great or beautiful memories and somehow, life changed and the lies were revealed.
Suddenly, the golden glows that used to be brilliant start to fade to a sad dimness.
The sunrise that once held a station in our memories has been spoiled by the awareness that not everything is what we believed.

Not all people are as they seem either, which is fine.
No, really this is true.
I will not discount the hard fact that we come to when we realize the pain of being deceived.
And nor will I minimize how it hurts to be the fool – or to be played like one

I see this now and perhaps we saw this before too.
Maybe we turned a blind eye for the sake of believing in something.
Maybe I did this too, even if we knew the outcome was unlikely or even if I knew the lie would be exposed; I admit to believing in unbelievable things because Dear God, just once . . .
I’d like to find my place in the sunlight.

But realize something –
There is no going back.

Once the lies are revealed, at least the lies are revealed.
At least we know.
At least we can go on about our business and start to seek the truth or build a new life, which i not easy, I’m sure.

At least we can wake up the next morning and not have to live a lie or accept that everything we were told was just to make us believe in something untrue.
I am sorry for my hand in the unfortunate fatalities.
I am sorry for being who I am or being as I am and more than anything; I am sorry for my part in the pain or the suffering of anyone else.
I have no excuse.

I swear that even the spells of making love can spoil a memory into something toxic and regretable.
And I do.
I regret everything.
I really do.
I regret my past because even the greatest surface-level beauty can fade away.
I know this because only true beauty is real.
Anything else is only acting or pretending to be pretty.
And “Pretty!”
I hate that word.
I don’t want pretty.
I want beauty, as in beautiful.

I have seen the most beautiful demons the devil has to offer.
I know this.
I took the bait and bit the forbidden fruit and so, because of this, my sins carry on, consequentially and consecutively and yes, I know this will be with me until the last of my days..

However:
To become beautiful, I admit to my ugliness and to my awkward shape and poses to act “as if.”
I confess to my cons or to needs to manipulate.
And I admit to my ugly truths. 

Again and again. 
Over and over.
I confess. 

I confess with my mouth and heart and with my soul that my ugly truths have spoiled any of my beauty to become subpar or average at best.

Nothing is worse than man losing his only true beauty to a demon or a devil or to a temptress of lies.

Therefore, I have to forget about this.
I have to forget about the aftermath of violence. I have to forget about the revelation of truth. I have to forget the awareness of the moments that cut me until I was emotionally bloodless and drained. I have to let go of my grip and surrender my scars, and of course, I have to submit and surrender my weapons of mass and self-destruction.

All of this must go.
Blessed Father, save me from myself . . . 

If it is true that it is only by dying that one awakens to eternal light; then it must also be true that one can only enter the house of their truth by surrendering their lies. Therefore, to separate from my demons, I have crucify my past so that today; I can dine in the house of paradise. 

I have news for you.
Everyone thinks they’re right.
Everyone has a side and an opinion.
Everyone has their own truth, even if their truth is not true.

There was no sunshine through the clouds this morning. And still, the first light pushed through the grayness to remind me that somewhere out there, the sun is still strong.

Love is still out there

The sunlight is just elsewhere for the moment.
Not gone,
Not distant

Not anywhere other than where the sun has always been.

Love is this way.
Hate is this way.
The contrast is still pretty incredible.

The question has to become this –
The new day is here.

So?
What are you going to do about it?

And trust me . . .
Your answer to this can and will change the direction of your life from now until the hour of our death

Amen