And you start to wonder if there is such a thing . . .
You think about the world you live in and all the ups and downs or the highs and the lows.
You think.
You know?
You wonder about the lucky ones, or at least, I should keep this on me; and so, if this is on me, then I should say that this is on me.
And it is me who wonders about the lucky ones or the so-called beautiful ones who always seem to have it easier.
I used to call them “The Velvet Ropes,” meaning the pretty people because back in the days when my nights were overwhelmed by status and the club scene in New York City, the pretty or the lucky or the so-called beautiful ones were the people who never had to wait in lines.
They were the people who approached the door and someone at the gate would open a red velvet rope and let them in without waiting.
Hence, I called these people the velvet ropes because I used to watch them at the doors of different night spots. And I used to watch them from the outside looking in.
So, I wonder . . .
I suppose I’ve always wondered.
I wonder if this is something that happens for other people and yet, somehow, you stand there alone as if to wonder or question if I am always going to be the one on the outside looking in.
And I wonder.
Of course, I wonder about the truth or the substance of reality.
I have always wondered about me or if at all; could I be beautiful?
Is that even possible?
Or if not then why do I have to be ugly?
Or if I am not ugly, then why do I have to be so average or unremarkable?
Why does mediocrity feel worse than a curse?
And the curse is like . . .
it’s like to be to be so plain as if to make me like milk in the blanket of the white snow, unseen and unmeaningful and simply unnoticed . . .
If anything at all, I wonder if there is such a thing as a happy ending.
Is there?
Or is the saying happily ever after nothing more than just a saying?
Of course, I wonder.
I absolutely wonder and I have always wondered.
Do dreams come true?
I may not have liked how she aged or the aftermath of her story, but I do admit to my appreciation for Judy Garland when she sang in The Wizard of Oz.
Somewhere, over the rainbow.
Remember?
“Some day I’ll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me.”
I was a kid when I heard the song, “over the rainbow.”
Then again, I was just a kid and kids believe in kids things, like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus and the Man on the Moon.
I wanted something good to be true.
But I remember the time I was beat up by an older kid for being me, a stupid kid, for believing in things like this.
But wait . . .
maybe this is two separate things.
I never thought that anything about me was remarkable or worthy enough to be noticed or mentioned.
Never.
And the times when I was?
Or the times when I felt a sense of confidence?
Something always came along to either burst my bubble or I would see myself in a picture or notice my reflection in the mirror . . .
Then I would see my truth or my so-called truth.
In all honesty, there was only one person in my life who led me to believe with all my heart and all I have that to them, I was beautiful.
I believed this until I found out this was a lie and the things she said to me was being said to another man . . .
She told me –
I have never had anyone better than you . . .
No one makes me feel like you . . .
You are the best I have ever had . . .
And it was just words or perhaps at best this was only momentarily true.
And when this was real, I never believed this was real.
If that makes sense.
The one most amazing thing that pushed me to think, feel and believe that I was beautiful too was a lie because meanwhile; I stuck and clung and held this hope with all I had, hoping and wishing that perhaps I could have some kind of fairy tale too.
Maybe . . .
I wondered.
Of course, I did.
Is there anything like this anymore, anything dreamy or something so overwhelming and over the moon?
Or if we go back to the song . . .
Is the song somewhere over the rainbow just a song?
And so, you go and you try and maybe you survive and you live to fight another day.
And I say fight. Yes. Fight.
I reiterate . . .
I say fight, that is of course if we see this or the life we live as a fight and like yesterday; sometimes, waking up is enough of a fight to stay alive.
This is a fight because in all honesty, I have often encountered yesterdays that were nothing more than another regrettable moment that I wasted on the things I cannot change.
I call this out because lacked the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can . . .
Right?
Isn’t that how the prayer goes?
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
I know the prayer well.
I know this prayer upside down, backwards, front ways and sideways.
I understand the meaning of the prayer and yet, I struggle with the application of this prayer, which again, this is what happens when we waste our time and worry about the things we cannot change.
Is there anything real?
Are there such things as fairy tales?
Or
Is happily ever after a real thing?
I can’t say that I know . . .
But I can say that this is the goal
At least
For now
All this is . . .
is a plea from a man on the outside
Looking in
You know?
Maybe someday I’ll wish upon a start too
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt
Like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me
Now, as a man
I think this is far too weak to admit to any of the above . . .
but I am far from string
and further from tough
I might never be a happy little blue bird
And I might never sing over the rainbow
But one day
This is where you will find me.
At least
I hope so
The Written Addiction 