And it all comes down to this. . .
There is only one truth and no amount of acting or pretending can change the truth
So then, what is true?
I suppose truth is often questioned because some people deny their truths and say “well, this is not true to me.”
But truth is truth.
Truth does not concern itself with us or how we think or feel about these things.
Truth is truth.
That is all.
Truth is often seen as an opinion, in which case my truth might only be true to me. And again, there is only one truth and no matter how we negotiate or try; there is no changing facts or altering details to soothe the emotions or protect our feelings
Fact is fact.
Truth is truth.
Life is life.
I am me and you are you.
These things cannot change.
I have been told “the truth hurts,” and I agree.
Yes. The truth does hurt sometimes.
I can say that I have experienced truths that were more than painful, and to me, I can say they were deadly.
I have been told “the truth will set you free,” to which I assume that even pain or the painful awareness of truth can open our eyes enough to show us the way to a new and better life.
I know that I was told “acceptance is key,” and I can say from my own perspective; I am most out of control whenever I dive in and spend all of my energy trying to change things that are out of my control.
I have spent my lifetime in different outfits, and wearing different suits, different uniforms, and using different decorations, and different costumes and in all; I have spent my entire life trying to find out who I am. And yes, of course, I want to be able to answer the question, “who do I want to be?”
“Who am I supposed to be?”
Is it this?
Is there more?
Am I missing the big picture here and somehow, am I the last one to get the hint or am I the last one to get the joke?
Nothing hurts quite like this one.
Nothing hurts more than when you awaken to the fact that not everything is what you believed and not everyone feels the way you assumed.
I found myself alone enough and on more than one occasion; I found myself alone and realizing that I failed to get the hint.
I failed to see the signs or read the room and in the end, I can say that I have come face to face with the saddest understanding that comes with rejection.
And still, the question remains; was any of this true?
Or was this only true to me?
I spent decades in a shell and after years of living in different costumes, I admit to the self-inflicted downfalls and the shadows I’ve left on the sun.
I admit to the falsehoods and the lies and the battles I faced with deception, which are worse because self-deception is the most dangerous of all deceptions.
I was only the real me once . . .
once . . .
And whatever it takes, I want to get back to that person again.
I can see how I silenced my brightness and dulled my true brilliance. I see what I did.
And I know why.
I know who I was and I see the conflict between that person and the person I wished I could have been.
Ah, the closing doors of beautiful opportunities and the learning curve that comes when you lose something enough that you fit the description of how “you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”
I failed myself, due to a belief that I was either faulty or flawed somehow too different, too odd, too off-center, and too awkward to be comfortable and deserving of my truest and best dreams.
I say this as if to testify and qualify my position and too, I say this to defy my alter and inner voice and to dismantle my ego.
Therefore, I say this to bring me to humility and to destroy the demons in my head. I do this to kill the dishonesties that come from the beast in my heart.
Jim Carroll once wrote, “my beast wears rings,” and yes, mine does too.
And ouch . . .
they hurt when I get punched and the scars run deep yet, no one knows and no one sees and no one hears me or knows when I cry.
I have lived this way for as long as I can remember.
And why?
What good has this done for me?
How has this helped me?
Or better yet, aside from trying to keep me safe, how has my beast helped me to be happy.
“DTA”
This stood for “Don’t trust Anyone!”
Never let anyone see you sweat.
Never explain, never complain.
Be the quiet storm.
Be strong.
Be tough.
Endure.
This is what a real man does.
Right?
(wrong!)
I was told to keep my cards close to the vest, which is a poker trick.
Keep your cards close to the vest means that I have to protect what I have, good or bad, because whether my hand is weak or strong, the ante in this poker game is too high for me.
The stakes at the table can be life-changing or life ending, depending upon the cards we draw.
But still, you can’t show fear.
Friends can become enemies and enemies are often wolves in sheep’s clothing.
Control your boundaries.
Watch your back.
Be careful because the day you let down your guard and the day you let someone in is often the day you find your walls are destroyed and your house has been annihilated.
No life is more draining than this kind of life
I have tried to hide my fears.
I tried to hide my invisible scars which no one sees but yet, I swear these are more visible than anything else around me.
Inner voice: “It’s like they know . . . and it’s like everyone sees and everyone knows that I am weak and that I have been hurt and exposed and whatever purity I had was poisoned and destroyed.”
I tried to hide my weakness.
I tried to hide my history, my abuse, and my tiny secrets that grew bigger than the universe.
I have tried to cover myself and wear masks or hold a shield to stop the arrows from piercing my heart again.
I never wanted to feel that feeling of humiliation or wear the foolishness on my sleeve.
No man admits to these things.
No . . .
A man is supposed to be strong. I am supposed to be tough.
A man is successful.
A man can balance his checkbook and solve problems, fix what’s broken, and eat what’s on his plate, even if it’s spoiled or tastes lousy.
A man deals and survives and endures and he starves if he has to and whenever possible; a man devours the scraps or the leftovers to keep them from the trash and solve his personal or physical starvation
A man can stand true to himself and say yes, here, this is me. This is who I am
I am this
I am me.
And fuck you, if you don’t like it!
And if this is so, then let me be clear and let me be true and let me leave nothing to misinterpretation and let me leave nothing to judgment or to the decision of whether I am true or just another actor here on Project Earth.
I am me
I am this
I am a scared boy who was deceived and tricked and thought that love came from trust and if this were true, then how could anyone love someone with an inappropriate touch or level of attention.
No . . . Love is much different from anything like that
I am me, and I am this, and I am that same boy who awoke to an awareness that no, love is not a touch from someone who should never touch someone in that way.
I am the one who woke up and realized that I am the fool, or that I was just “a thing” like an item or an object or a source to alleviate an unfortunate arousal.
I am the one who had to come to grips with this and I am the one who had to process this and I am the one who had to realize that none of this had to do with me, even though, yes, this happened to me
I am me, this, and I am that skinny little boy who was picked on and bullied and beat up because I was too scrawny and weak and incapable of fighting back.
And so, I am the defense of that scared little boy who took beatings and bled. I am the soundless cuts and self-harmed body. I am the one who became vengeful and unreachable and I am the one who changed and then I tried to turn the facts around by building an image of chaos and danger.
no one picks on the crazy or the dangerous ones . . .
or so I believed.
I am the one who was unseen and unknown and yes; I am the one who wasted myself and wasted my time and my heart and my flesh because I am the one who was truly seen by one person.
I have only been seen by one person . . .
and so, I ran and I hid and I self-destructed and I imploded and failed myself by ruining the best things in life
Like, love . . .
Like the feeling of having “someone”
Like the perfection of the only connection so perfect and true that there was no judgment, no threats, no reason to be afraid.
And still, my fears destroyed this too because in my best estimation, in the end, I would always be the fool or the punchline to someone’s joke; and worse, I would always be the last to know.
I am me, wishing I was better, or wishing I fit, and wishing I was more comfortable and happy with my reflection in the mirror.
I am this too, a young man who defied the predictions of an early death and a life of imprisonment in more ways than one.
I am a young man who tried to love but the love I gave did not return as I had hoped.
I am that young man who swore that I would die before letting myself feel love or be so foolish to believe that love is real.
I swore to Hell and to God and to anything in-between that no one would ever see me or my truths or know how weak or pitiful I am.
And am I pitiful?
My beast tells me this all the time and the demons run tricks on me – just to keep me guessing.
I am that man
I am this
I am somehow alive and well, despite my best efforts and I am here and in the flesh.
I am this – one love
One heart
No one can substitute this and no one can compromise me or my truths and neither can I.
I fell enough.
And I bled enough too.
Now is the time to define the rest of my life, stand up, and make my way towards the best salvation I could ever imagine.
there is only one truth . . .
And to you, to the love of my life,
I have no room left for resentment. I have no room left to fight or to argue and for all I know, the world will go by this way and I will find the rest of my days without you or at best, I will never have you the way I wished.
I do not blame anyone for this.
I have a different level of understanding now. . .
One day, and whenever this day comes, I will show you something worthier than my past.
To my bullies, both foreign and domestic and to the bullies around me and to the one within –
I am not here for this or for you.
My apologies but you will have to keep your arguments alive without me.
But don’t worry. We both know there is a sucker born every minute.
I am sure that you will find someone else.
To my heart and to my soul and to the child I wished I could protect –
I promise you the end is the end and that no one can hurt you like that anymore.
I have to be a friend to you now because I have no other choices that seem attractive to me.
And I am here
Always here. . .
And always is a long time
I know
But so is never
And if this is my truth
Then my I know that my truth will never change
So, help me God
May the day come soon
But until my time to shine comes
You will find me here
Waiting . . .
From now until the hour of my death
(amen)
The Written Addiction 