I know. Or at least I believe that I know.
I know you have to find a way to somehow detach or unwind. And I get it.
I know what it means to need to get away or to want to break free.
And so, if I know this, then I also know what it means to be stuck in a maze or to get caught in some kind of a game with high stakes. You know?
Your life is on the line.
Your survival is on the line too and all you can do is either fold or bet into a losing hand
And you act and you portray and you posture up and you pose. You pretend and you wear your see-thru smile and you dress the part like a model citizen.
But deep down, you’re caught in a bad round of no-limit poker. Your chips have all been taken and your pot is heavy but you are broke.
There are no cards left in the deck that can save you now.
But all you can do is play the hand because “What choice do you I have,” am I right?
Life is this way, sometimes.
The world is mounting and the tension grows thick.
I get it.
Time is moving at speeds that make no sense because you scratch your head and wonder where the time went.
“What the hell?”
And you ask yourself questions to find some kind of accountability.
You try to negotiate the blame or the shame, the guilt, the fault and the regret.
But there is no compromise and so, there is no relief.
So, you run and run and you run into yourself at the front door.
The candle has been burning at both ends for so long, you have no idea how to live in ways, other than this.
Stress . . .
It’s a real mother fucker.
no?
At the same time, you try and you reach and you swing and you miss.
Time moves slowly when you find yourself in the pit of your outcomes. Pain makes the seconds move slow enough that they seem like lifetimes.
All you wonder and all you wish for is too distant and too far from coming true.
I get it.
I do.
Life is this way sometimes.
And no one really talks about this.
No one talks about the unfairness or the sharp blades of reality that cut you deeply.
But why?
Isn’t this common?
No one talks about their disappointment.
No one talks about their losses or the fact that the so-called game of life has kicked their ass.
No one ever tells you what it feels like to be caught and stuck . . .
no relief in sight and no breaks from the pain and no one speaks up about what life when the harshness has no ending or moments of reprieve.
Everything is so goddamned intense.
Work. Life.
Love.
The body. The Mind.
And the soul.
This is all we have.
and what if this is not in good shape?
Now add the outcomes.
Add the facts of life.
Add the insults to injury.
Add the promotion you were promised and then somehow, add the fact that the position you prayed for has vanished and the opportunity disappeared.
The money you never made has already been spent.
Add the brutal chaos and the cutthroat mentality of a “me first,” society.
Add the amount of knives in your back.
Add the moments when you turned to call someone you love and then . . . add the realization that unfortunately, that person is no longer there or wants you.
Add lonesomeness.
Add the stupid car accidents and the hike in your car insurance.
Add the simple little idiots who ipse on your daily life.
Next –
Add the changes or the cutbacks at work and the impact this has on you.
Add the distractions of so-called friends who dropped the mask and so, now you see, now you know, and now you realize what it means to be a fool.
Add betrayal.
Add the lies from someone you love and whom you assumed and swore loved you endlessly in return.
And find out that this was not what you believed . . .
Add the simple and common deceits.
Add the calls from your bank to inform you that your identity might have been compromised.
And so, add the new banking information that you have to upload and add all the changes you have to make to your automatic payments.
Add the curiosity that comes when you wonder things like, “hey, is this going to get better?”
Add the question, “Is this ever going to go away?”
Add the advice you never asked for and add the know-it-alls who come along with their “million-dollar” suggestions, which to you is worth less than a dime.
Add the ins and the outs of your everyday life.
Add the mild to moderate and sometimes intense bouts with insomia
And next, add the alarm clock which is cruel and uncaring and ringing to remind you that life has chores and time is running out.
Add the asshole boss who has no understanding of your job and add their advice on how to complete your tasks.
Next, add your chemistry.
Add your health.
Add your frustrations.
Add the jerkoff neighbor who always seems to piss you off.
Add the facts and the issues and the problems that come your way.
And now . . . I want you to add the dickheads in the morning who has no social graces or common decency and manners.
Add the common sense of entitlement and how people rudely push their way in because to them, no one else exists.
Add this up.
Seriously, tally this like these are numbers.
Add them
Add all the details that hurt.
Add the details that are disheartening and dispiriting and add the things that make the best people forget that deep down, we really are a good person.
Add this
Add the social and professional and the interpersonal bullies.
And wait. There’s more.
Include the bully within and all the rhetoric and the inner critic and the voice of your internal narrator who whispers louder than a scream.
Add this up.
And add up the numbers of your anxiety.
Include the anticipation of the next thing on the list.
Add how everything can and will go wrong.
Add the symptoms of your personal insanity.
Add the distinct possibility of you and your mind exploding and next, and you’re not sure when, but add the idea that if something doesn’t give or break, then yes; add the outrage and the thought which says, “I swear to God, I am going to lose my shit!”
I see you.
I see what you lived through.
I see your strengths, which are second nature to you by now.
I see the argument to which both you and I would be happy as a bird to fly and to be less strong if it meant that life would be easier and that we would be less tested.
Something keeps you going through.
I mean, really.
Something amazing
Something inspires you.
Something wakes you up.
And I don’t know what it is.
I assume the common argument is that there are people, places and things which depend upon us.
And sure, this can give some identity and yes, I can say this can add purpose.
But no.
That is not enough to keep the soul going and for us or anyone else to keep the body upright.
It’s not.
People who had far more than us and people who had far more dependents are the same ones who chose to sink and drown and quit.
But not you.
Not me.
Not us.
And I don‘t know why this is.
I can’t say that I have my finger on the pulse when it comes to this.
I can’t say that I know the ins and outs to mine or anyone else’s recovery.
I just know that some people stay the course.
And yes, this is admirable.
I don’t know why some people choose to endure and some choose to fade or drown into their worst version of obscurity and next, they succumb to their own emotional quicksand.
And they die
You have managed too many things for too long.
You have fought too often.
You have hurt and bled and still, despite the need for a break or rest, you get up and you go and you keep moving.
I suppose the reason I keep moving is because of something my Father once told me.
My Father was working on a project.
The Old Man was hitting a chisel with a hammer and slamming down hard.
He missed and accidentally hit his hand. And this caused him to bleed.
This hurt, but my Father kept swinging harder and faster and he didn’t stop.
He missed the chisel a few times after and as a witness; I wished he would stop.
I wanted him to stop because although The Old Man and I had a recent argument and yes, I was resentful; my Father was bleeding and hurting himself.
Finally, my Father chiseled through.
And then he made a noise, like a grunt, which sounded like a painful “ah!”
I asked him, “why didn’t you stop?”
The Old Man tended to his wrist and hand with defiance and said, “because when you stop, that’s when it starts to hurt.”
I never forgot this
I can appreciate the fact that fear and pain are excellent motivators.
And at the same time. No.
This is not what keeps you alive.
There is something there.
There is something in us.
There is something in us that only an underdog can know about.
Only the underdog can understand because despite the odds and despite the pain and suffice to say there are losses and tragedies and painful and that yes, there will be more events that are “in the mail” and up and coming –
Somehow you and I still do the three biggest, most powerful words in the English language.
Go. Be. Do.
God, I admire you.
And God, I swear, no one in the world is more precious or beautiful than you are.
I chose poorly throughout my life.
I missed my calling more than once.
I traded myself for lesser and lower values and yes, I have forgotten my worth.
I am guilty of this, multiple times, and so . . .
I found myself aimlessly wandering and wishing and hoping that maybe one day, something will break and I will finally get my way.
It is a new day now.
This is a new time.
And I?
I am aiming to be a new person, which I can be, should I choose to take the hints and follow the path.
I do not know why I have survived or why I am here or why you and I have crossed paths.
Maybe I am here to draw inspiration from you.
Or maybe this is all too crazy and maybe this is really just happenstance.
Maybe there are no such things as God or demons or fate and destiny.
But I am sorry.
No.
Too much has happened.
Too many signs lead me to believe that you and I (or this) and the fact that our paths crossed are simply coincidental.
And due to this fact, somehow life intervenes and we are separated and then reintroduced and then we are separated once more and then reintroduced again
But, despite the separation, there is something kindred and there is something special, and there is something both deeper and spiritual about this to me.
People save lives all the time without knowing.
You do this.
I know it.
I suppose I have saved a life or maybe two; however, I never take credit for these things.
I refuse this idea because I do not believe that I have the right to assign this kind of honor.
Unless, of course, this comes from me and therefore; I can attest to this when someone saves me.
Or, maybe I would accept this kind of reward if someone comes forward and says this to me.
Even still, ego has no place here and I prefer to leave ego out of this.
So, I will simply enter my appreciation and assign this to you
I have dangled and fell and I have pondered and I have wished the end was here.
I admit this
But I am here.
Still . .
I am not dead.
And you?
For some reason, I am simply one of the lucky people who can say, “Who? You mean that person over there?”
And then I can say with a proud and grateful heart. “Yeah, I know exactly who they are!”
My wish above all is to say that I know you best because if anything in this world is lifesaving, then saying that I know the most beautiful, and the most precious angel in the world has to be up there and on top of that list.
I wish for you.
I love you.
And whether I am alone or otherwise, no one will ever change or alter the ideas and the thoughts or the feelings in my heart
Stay
The world needs you
And yes
The world is a better place
because of YOU!
The Written Addiction 